A Little Earth For Your Hand
Separately we gather
around the new
It tells the ancient stories
of power and warring people, intolerance
and all of the accompanying pain
and I desire to sleep for I am weary,
weary from carrying the huge weight
of my own thoughts
the ranting of politicians
the hatred of ancestors.
Sometimes I go to the window
and put my hands on the glass
my forehead against its cold hardness
and I look out to where nature
is waving the limbs of trees
pushing weeds through cracks in asphalt
out to where birds connect space
where moss blooms on sills
and people continue to gasp at the sky.
Nature! I will go out
and do its bidding, plant a seed
offer a little earth for your hand.