We are not soldiers
But for every heart
That breaks yonder
Tears falling
Feeling loss
There are my brothers

For every mother
Aching with the pain
Of deprivation
Of sorrow for child’s loss
For anguish in imagined failure
To care for her kin
There is my sister

For every ounce of sand
Seedling buried in the earth
There is my mother

And for every shame birthed
That I took pleasure to learn from
In my labors and my leisure
There is my father

For everything
That is part of one
Whilst separate part of none
Riddles and riff raff
There am I
Related to everyone and everything
That grows green
Walks, crawls, slithers, or swims
Rots, falls, and withers
Therein all glory lye my kin