Mothers' Night

Mothers' Night

 

cascading shards 

uneasy 

echoes falling 

"It's our calling." 

Rape of Earth, 

hot spurts of words 

savage knives 

Abiding Mothers, 

sacred and mundane 

twist into harridan 

cold stars 

wail, hurtling waves 

Sad, old, crust of ages 

sliced, screwed, carved up for profit 

"It's not the color of the skin, 

the culture of the smile" 

the scent of danger, 

the inborn stranger -- 

all excuses for Us (superior) 

and Them (inferior) 

"They are not like we; 

but lower curs." 

we may harm with unfettered glee 

Cursed to be cut to our requirement. 

Borders clear 

"Here, fear fences in 

our livelihood and wives." 

Leave THEM to putrid pits 

cunning jabs, 

our pleasure. 

Thus, all treasure that might regale, 

heal, reveal true worth, 

of man and Earth 

sold for pittance of potash 

to dance a weary jig 

May 10, 2010