It seems I now understand
Sacral seed covers itself with
Mis-representations or thoughts,
Thereof. I don’t believe such,
Anymore, exists. I think
A time of love/hate must withstand
A period of hate/love.

I hate the way we are scraping the planet raw.
I love living in a house with a bathroom and
A kitchen. I hate the way the planet’s dying.
I love having a mind, hopefully attuning,
Others or myself. I hate tall buildings,
Sucking resources from living matter,
Of planet-richness. I love the visions of growing!
I hate sustaining All. Guess I’m tired.

It seems I misunderstood that
Sacral seed, uncovered, is not all
It seems, carrying imperfections,
Of thought or dare or thereof.
I believe we exist, I just don’t believe
It matters, anymore than
A butterfly’s wing. Amen.
Plus some crying.

I am a woman of
Sacrificed seed, covered
By others fanatical creeds. Yet,
Stubbornly, I still exist.
Therefore, I must love you,
Very much. Hate,
Notwithstanding.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 12/8/12