And so it was decided that the planet must be created anew.
But a question floated and bubbled and ballooned into a cry
Of who would populate this planet?
Who of the bodies would be drawn out of the clay and into form?
What color will they be?
There was much raging amongst ourselves,
Digging of valleys with stubbornly planted feet,
Sharpening the peaks of mountains with cutting words,
And yet for all the landscape the discussions made
The planet remained Empty.
How, in the midst of all these differences,
Can we expect human beings to come together?
Are they simply beings destined to hurt and heal, cry and laugh in cycles unending?
A grand potential, a grand theory held back by ?
A river dammed by a pile of small rocks.
A continent ripped in half by barbed wire and treaties.
We split ourselves into
a cube with many sides
a body with many souls
a spider with many eyes
To live every life
To die every death
It’s just a scream into the void.
An unpacking and repacking without cause.
For all our preparation we didn’t bring enough socks.