ALWAYS...
Our roots
Dug deep in American soil clingonly to the surface crawl
across ungiving ground pulled
hybrid tubules, sprout
in all directions now
From Cameroon waters plucked,
From our own waters, placed
in to the tears, our mother's shed
in to the mouth of a vase, clipped,
rerooted in new waters, planted,
rare flowers yearning for the forest ripped
from and carelessly scanted,
in to fields of ungiving day,
By ungiving day thrived,
from sunrise to sunset worked
On neglect survived,
Up from the sandy loam, we arise,
We weren't meant to stay,
Perennial flowers in a field alive
Meant to work and die,
We return each May,
We sprout anyway,
Like chaparral on a hill aflame
baptized by fire and futility,
We seek our given name,
Out of the murk and mire,
We sprout a new beauty
Not anyone to bear the blame
for those millions gone,
No right, no wrong, no shame, hush
They died for US!
©victori May 8, 2018
