Poetry

i sing with soft promises

I sing with soft promises

And quiet conviction

For scars and ruptured ears have taught me

Those who scream loudest are not without fault

And we howl to drown out our own mistakes

little hands

which graveyards have you forgotten?

Your soil was made rich by the bones of your ancestors

You think you’re better than them?

You wouldn’t be without the phosphorus they left in the dirt

You are but the solidified echo of carbon turned to flesh

There is nothing new in the things that you you revel in

Your grandmothers knew more aching in their hands than you’ll ever know in your back

Your grandfathers gave more iron to the dirt than you’ve ever bled or punched out

What leg do you have to stand on when the very calcium in your bones was bred from wildness you fear far more than you scream you respect

The ashes you built your empires on are a fitting foundation then

You claim to have razed the past to the ground

Instead, you just let it fertilize the fields

How much rage does that give you?

To stand in these meadows filled with life and know it came to be in spite of everything you tried to do

I would say your ancestors are proud

But you burned down their graveyards trying to turn ashes into skyscrapers