The Passion of Generations
Bloodless, finally asleep,
my mother still teaches
some lessons beneath soil
topped with sap and needles.
We, her grown children, listen.
Autumn whispers between trees,
numbers compete with years,
greed occupies countries
of red foxes and hares.
Who will win the next war?
How empty, our wombs,
and still, we are full of one
another. Do you see,
can you imagine what a weight
it is to be human in this time
of lies and levies,
to be born with the cord
wrapped around your neck.