At burn'd skin of Mother I stare;
once satin silk – now, rough remains;
She is strong, but it's less than fair
to claim we love Her while in chains,
when we abuse Her, slit Her veins,
bathe in Her tears to wash our stains;
how much more of this „love“ She'll bear?
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Author:
Rin the Magnificent (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: November 6th, 2024 00:23
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments2
This reminds me of a Native American vison of the earth as mother and that we have no right to cut her hair or dig under her skin. A beautiful metaphoric write that deserves greater attention. Loved it.
Thank thee so much for the comment!
I did try to balance the metaphors, and poetic language, with the real-life tragedies we face.
The Native American story is so beautiful; if only we heed them warnings of yore.
Kindest regards, Soren!
Bravo
Thanks Tony!
Kindest regards.
You're welcome
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