Monday, June 6

Her Story

Smug men, high on horses,
beautiful, set in stone.
Holding peace like they're the owner.
Wine is blood. Bread is bone.

A bread loaf dropped into the rocks,
a crumb into his mother's cleavage.
Hunger leads a man to greed.
Greed and land-owning suffrage.

She erodes under his nose,
lands upon an endless shore.
Bread and bone will decompose.
She reforms just like before.

Men arrive in their ships,
clipity clop onto the rocks.
Nautical star gazers who got their wish
were carriers of chickenpox.

Be the elders your kids could be,
but keep in mind this principle:
You're much younger than she is.
Our history is Her silent sience.

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