Mother's Bleeding
A very short piece on a very deep problem.
Mother’s bleeding her dead children
single-celled, invertebrate
born in the water of her womb
after the Word, below the light
amniotic deaths, sand and silt shrouds
mass graves of viscous black rot
Mother’s bleeding, her dead children
finned, feathered, furred
still in the water where life began
anointed by the exhumed hemorrhage
innocent sacrifice of awakening
your sleeping terrestrial siblings
Mother’s bleeding her, dead, children
thin-skinned, thick-headed
water and oil have never mixed
excuses confuse a simple choice
eat, drink, breathe where if her wounds drain dry?
return to her—or return to her
She will welcome you, either way
I often feel these days that we've returned to medieval politics. Or that maybe they have never disappeared. There was just a thin veneer of modernism sort of hiding it. Not always successfully.
I was just in Ireland and prepared myself for what people might ask me. Nobody asked, it turns out, which was somewhat surprising. Part of my answer, with the question of "Are you American?" in mind, would have been, "I have that unfortunate pleasure."
Thank you for putting into words other thoughts I've been having; e.g., why do we continue to grant legitimacy to men who clearly are incapable of leading? Even men who look terrific on the surface (thinking of both Eric Swalwell and also Charles M. Schulz) turn out not to be.
Very poignant and succinct, Ronlyn. Yes, it is too easy to overlook how other creatures suffer during human warfare, spills or other activities.