Untitled Poem #11

Shattered light.
Broken rainbows.
Hollow dreams.
Built upon a landscape
grey
bitter
derelict
dry earth
cracked
parched 
for precipitation.
A single tear drop
lands upon broken head
bent 
ashamed
marooned within the barren lands.
Will blood shed
not in times of war
not in times of peace
but in times of necessity
will the land accept a sacrifice?
Docile
led by the collar
dead eyes stare without.
Not a person.
Not a child.
A non-being. 
Spoils of war
of domination 
taken as beast of burden 
about to die as such.
First stone 
brings it to its knees
shuttered eyes
glaze with…..
fire and fury.
Second stone
scores against its tiny shoulder
no more can it be contained……
Righteous rage
she stands upright
no longer a child
a woman 
staff in hand 
light haloed around
ready to battle all.
Royal in nature 
in all of life.
Roaring
her voice filled their minds
their senses
while still making these animals 
lean forward to hear her words.
‘Gaia I am.
Protector of earth
protector of animal
protector of all in need of shelter.
I am taking back my home
taking back my life
taking back the good
whilst I eliminate the bad.’
Boom
pressure in each mind
as each eye was blown open
as each fear
horror
pain had been inflicted
now returned a hundredfold.
Third eye 
blinded 
now awakened 
horror 
abject fear 
no turning from eons of pain.
History pinwheels
ice ages thaw 
apes to men
to villiages 
to the pinnacle 
ending in the giant boom
mushroom flare
ash falling
skin burning……
furrows dug 
flesh stipped from face
eyes bleeding
pierced so as not to see…..
history continues
looping
replayig
always the same outcome.
‘This is the last time.
No more will I be content
to let you destroy my lands
my oceans
my earth.’
Wailing 
on their knees
to grovel
to plead
for forgiveness
for leniency.
Glaring down
intricate dance 
love
hate
redemption.
Turning 
walking away
a path forming at her feet.
Behind 
swathe of green
startling against the brown dust.
Time will tell
history will show
mankind cannot be trusted.
Each time
the world comes to end
on the fallacy
of infant men.
 
December 17/18
Photo by Simon Matzinger on Unsplash

Author: Jay-lyn Doerksen

A single hard working mom of a soon to be teenage son. A poet and story teller I have wanted to write since I was a child. This space is where I share stories about myself and my life and the creative poetry that stirs my soul. My hope is you will pull up a chair and a cup of coffee delving into the world that I offer and you find simple enjoyment for a few moments. Welcome to The Wonderful & Wacky World of One Single Mom

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