Birthright
When this land
is given back to its owners
all your arrogance, your metastasized dwellings
monuments, insecticides, networks of
asphalt capillaries, of doubletalk
hens fed on antibiotics
tax collectors, bulldozers and sheep
Will be as dust on disused doorsteps
rotting timbers, thin whine of desert wind
blowing stinging particles of sand
over your severed limbs
Even as the vultures have had their say
and lurch away, great bags flapping
to some mountain retreat
we will emerge from cracks
reclaim what was always ours
this brown expanse of rubble littered landscape
on which to lay our eggs
To Go Back To
SEARCH RESULTS
Hit your browser's
BACK BUTTON
© Johnmichael Simon
2012
.
