Heavy on the metaphor, hold the mayo.
Do not mistake the land that lies fallow
riches come from roots that take hold
not from seeds scattered carelessly in numbers
that choke the soil.
Do not forget that what has grown
will feed the soul only what the soil
has fed upon.
Filler feeds, but does not nourish;
satiety is the deception upon which
emptiness grows—until it, too, is fed.
When come the storms to bathe the fields,
weeds will follow.
History will be buried beneath clouds
and we, in our hollow,
will be history.
Here the children may play, someday.
They may hear stories of the famine,
the hollow promises of barren fields,
and the fury that scorched this acre.
They will not forget:
to the victor goes the spoils—
but to the earth goes the victor…
(22 June 2020)
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