Skip to main content

She's Not Mine to Own or Abuse


Bring your wrath lunging like the eagle, Mother! I will sacrifice my being for your oceans, for your seas and wilderness, your sky and love. I will fade away want and create with selfless affection.

“Love, laugh and live” swims as the red moon hangs its truth over stolen lands, over my shame; hungry children, warriors, the silent, the brown, the black, the red and white of my split flesh, the meek and the unforgiven, creation’s breath.

O let my possessions fall away from their foul use! Embrace another! Hear before I regret deafness, see before blindness covers more than my eyes, before quaking creation hauls all of my greed away.

I will love my home, which is not mine to own or abuse, I will cherish her sacred remedies, her medicines stolen by soured souls and misspent worship.

The fiery moon beseeches me to soar my Love from sea to shining sea, from mountain top to valley, from the forests to the deserts, the rivers and the caves, the jungles and the cities ...to be seen from home.


© 2011 by mark prime


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

........•SHRIEKING MACHINE•........                  •HEAD-LINES•                           •RIP•     ---(“Russian missiles blast Ukrainian military academy and hospital, killing more than 50, officials say”)---    There are no more lessons to learn here, no more beds to hold the human wounded, just missile’s shrieking their grotesque ode, The Death of Humankind! RIP, children of God…    ---(“Hundreds attend Mercer Island vigil, march for murdered Israeli hostages”)---    Dear mourners, this is the brutal vacuum of a genocidal, terror-filled, indiscriminate war-machine made of fear and we are all hostages to its deafening roar! RIP, children of God…    ---(“10-year-old allegedly confesses to fatally shooting 82-year-old man and his daughter”)---    I must confess, this is part of war’s shrieking, children lost with a we...

FAULT METER

FAULT METER    When you get a question wrong you will hear three loud beeps followed by an even louder ticking of a clock.    (Like tick-tick-tick-tick-tick?)    You are half right.    (Like tock-tock-tock-tock-tock?)    You got two halves of it.    (Then I give up!)    You do?    (It ain’t out of weakness, it’s my adhdad.) I understand.    (You understand what?)    That it’s not out of any weakness on your part.    (Weakness, on my part in what?)    Never mind, it’s definitely adhdad.     •    We float, we fly, we soar! We find our wings in each other. We find friends, cousins of the one seed of existence. An existence which never began, but always was, that loves us enough to provide life’s needs, our own, the same. A collection of living peacekeepers upon the surface of the most heavenly example known to them. • © 2017 Mark Richard Prime

Per Plex Ed

            PER+PLEX-ED When you haven’t heard the truth in so long, when you do, it rings a most familiar s ong. That’s the human song, the truth rolling out exactly when it should.      (If a truth is told and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound only to the one that spoke it?)    Yes, but our ears aren’t strong enough to hear it.     [a perplexed silence] © 2017 Mark Richard Prime