earth

Earth

Our feet are firm on terra firma,
Firm ground, what could be firmer?
Let me use you in poetry,
As some do in pottery;

I'll regard you in all I'll do,
Although men try to diss you,
Yet you were here before them all,
What covers them when they fall?

Make their bed, lay head on you,
Get bread from and tread on you;
Yet they sit on you, spit on you,
Stamp crude feet to shit on you;

Wicked rulers bore cruel rigs through
Your meek heart---ouch! oi, 'tis true!
His flesh was made from your dust,
Now, he steps on you--- 'tis unjust;

I say these, though I'm one of them,
Because I share in this problem:
I also drink from their contempt,
My protest was a vain attempt;

I get mad, pour out the anger
You bear in this face of danger,
Like bursting, cursing, pick stings,
Fussing, tossing my head, kick things;

Like blowing up fast from my palm,
When I look at you, you are still calm;
Thought I heard that vexed vibration,
Quaking beneath our cruel nation.