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faith & spirituality | imperialism & war

Solstice poem

Solstice poem
Mother Goose

Soldiers lie on narrow stiff cots
dream of battles to bring them honor
They scream at the sorrowful mother
"Shut up
I gave birth to myself"
lying to themselves
in their darkness
clutching the penis
And I admit these days
I know little of her curving sunsets
and the audience never wishing for her end

Her pink forgiveness everywhere
her last light
becomes the first light
squatting in the North
She holds a book and candle
and I read summer
like a weird dream
She allows this amnesia
permits everything
denies nothing
even soldiers who shoot her
kill her children
then call that brave

When so many geese fly north at
dusk for no reason
and the river still wanders that way
I must wonder who
are the rats living in filthy holes
guarding their barren borrowed treasures
and She supports this too
silly as it seems
people slinging smoke up in the air
like they never want to see the sun again

In this momentary grace before the fall
when the arrogant conquerors
shoot themselves in the leg
home for Christmas
I look upon the despised despot
captured and paraded
like a carnival sideshow
"See King George Rassle the Savage Injun"
under the golden arches
over one million lies served
advancing the adolescent dreams of
funny white men with Boy-Scout-leader knees
and shriveled up testicles like apricot pits

I swear she suffers this too
bowing before everyone
yielding to no one
"Melt my ice caps
I flood your world
my seas rising three hundred feet"
Some call this anger
others say it's sorrow
Only She knows it's love

gallbladder 34