There are sensible criticisms of viewing nature through poetic comparison.
The Earth, its complex web of interconnected life, its tons of molten stone, its invisible pull of gravity, of magnetism, is not literally our mother.
Yet also, it is.
Every facet of our species is shaped by the physical and chemical characteristics of Earth.
Calling the Earth our mother is a concise route to an overarching truth. It’s an accessible way to describe a complex concept. That’s the virtue of metaphor.
The drawback would be in using poetics to shut down curiosity, study, or specificity.
To say, “the Earth is our mother, so let’s close the book on geology, chemistry, and biology.”
This would be a misuse of metaphor. This would be painting a landscape over a window.
I believe we need the poetic lens because understanding the physical realities of iron isn’t quite the same as weighing the significance of how the iron in our blood connects us to the planet beneath our feet, to the heat of ancient stars.
Plain fact isn’t always the best ambassador of truth or the surest path to meaning.