Fertile Womb Of Earth

Fertile Womb Of Earth
© Surazeus
2018 04 01

Nothing shines as real as the light I see
piercing clouds after long dark night of rain
that makes all the world glitter with desire
transforming ugly horror into beauty.

I crawl from the bush where I hid all night
and wander through the village of my clan,
large houses once teeming with vibrant life
now fire-black skeletons of wood and bone.

I recognize each skull I pick from ash,
my mother whose cheeks flushed red as apples,
my sister who tied ribbons in her hair,
and the boy next door who gave me a lily.

Why did the men on horses burn our town,
and thrust sharp swords through heart of every man,
and chase screaming women into the woods,
because we lived in calm peace by the river?

I find bowls of seeds we stored in clay jars
and plant them in rows within the moist soil
like I saw my father do every year,
then water them every day from the river.

Green sprouts push up through the piles of gray ash
and open little leaves to soak in sunlight
so I kneel and my tears fall on their roots,
nourishing them with sorrow of my heart.

I stand before the statue of First Mother,
who gazes down with love from painted eyes
and spreads both hands open with giving trust,
to place skulls of my family at her feet.

I feel their spirits crowd around me close
when I sing their names in the morning sun,
for like plants sprout again from soil of Earth
their souls will regrow from my fertile womb.