Cursed Earth…

There is no fire under her roof;
for she stands with feet in ice cold water
lame crippled girl, with
her pride of darkest red
half mast, victory obliterated
I know everyone of the steps
she treads, for her path is mine
saints and sinners pass this gate
white for the lines middle
of the road
at the crossroads decisions
won and lost
Bellies ripped opened
bedpans full of sores
Judge – jury executioner
smocked in black
how many lives are left
to pray for?
Cursed is the earth that brushes
silken hems of skirts
trenches are dug in the garden
paths of blossom fallen dancers
tumble down –
congregated in corners
pardon me – their sound.

3 thoughts on “Cursed Earth…

  1. I find it hard to keep up with new works on here Harry.
    They seem to fade away before they have been really digested – which is a shame.
    Yes I am still writing I do have another blog – I have just had 3 poems published in a new book that is out – so still very much writing.

    Pops ~xx~


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