Feb 2010
I can feel the earth breathe
Roiling with life,
churning under my feet.
She speaks to me
of life well lived,
and of sickness.
Our mother is dying
slowly at our hands,
her dear children murderers.
Roiling with life,
churning under my feet.
She speaks to me
of life well lived,
and of sickness.
Our mother is dying
slowly at our hands,
her dear children murderers.
