my country’s light
now
just a candle lit
desperation
behind pane glass and wood
window
hungry children
hungrier mothers
and yet
they call such
welfare dreamers
and yet
they offer but
blowing sands
to all those
hungry hands
how dare they
dance
for it is upon the graves
of
all our mothers & children
In a scant three quarters of a century, we have moved from the land to the city. Mothers who once tilled the soil and nurtured flocks, are subject to the discrimination of the workplace that has considered them ill-suited by having children to work in the city. But the concrete has no place to plant seeds or graze flocks. And then we throw away one third of our food as unsuitable to eat. What a shame.
Your poem states it more succinctly and beautifully than my prose.
Questions, unquestioned discoveries, and answers in parable and rhyme…. This collection records a journey starting with a 1960s retrospective and the first man on the moon, moving to a new millennium welcomed in with a terrorist spin, family crises,
The songs and art in this book are about our collective emergence after the pandemic and trauma of the last few years - comprised of 5 collections: World as Refuge, Where We Live, In Our Hands, Rhythms of Change and What We See & Sow.
Share
Print
Save
Follow
It seems to be the whole world over...
It is the same here in the UK...
HOPE...
Diana...
Your poem states it more succinctly and beautifully than my prose.
Ron