Native Soul
It’s clear, they warned us and we snickered. Snicker on my fellows even though hollow to you narrates the truth:
“Man proud man,
Ignorant of what he is most assured” etc
That was years ago and now the very essence of proof is upon us. We have betrayed the spirit of what brought us here.
“Have we come from elsewhere? By these instruments shall we go home?” Etc
I am old and will withstand the final grimace.
My children, I pray, will too.
But their children, my own grand-subsequence;
Theirs is a questionable consequence.
When water is fought for
When air is gasped
When thought no longer reaches for the possibility
Of the sublime
When minute-by-minute life is simply held on to
Without grace or cause for hope.
But because an ancient message still resonates from the time of crocodiles: “survive god damn you. Survive!"
What will these children of our children cry out?
“ Couldn’t you fucking work it out?
There has always been enough for everyone.
Couldn’t you share? Couldn’t you care?”
Mother was dying and you groveled for what you could hole up in your castle-keep.
Mother was dying…..
