End of Empire

A nation held
hostage for a wall
that will never exist,
arrogant pride forcing
800,000 people to work
as slaves. Nothing new
like all women toiling
without wages to care
for the heart needs. My gratitude
app demands I celebrate
three things.  How can I

stop there? Last year, I mourned
a world my children will never
know. Now
I let go of my resistance.
Patriarchy carried us here
but these superficial constructs
melt away when we halt
the narrative. Easy when
a red-wigged buffoon tries to support
this vividly revealed
nonsense. Yet we love
legends

and how
when each word is weighted
with societal significance
when the structure
of grammar and punctuation
damn our creative
thoughts flooding our vision
with muddy imprecision
how

do we begin
to face
the mother goddess
birth a new creation
this global being
fair exchange
self-love

how
do we invent new metaphors?

The icy control thawing
the mansplaining droning on,
we plant in this richly
composted soil
so long neglected
teeming with treasure
cultivating precious
food for our knowing hearts

which hungered
in the old stories,
useful
myths for a captive audience,
now
just a trap
old languages
which have never
paid the living
wages we merit
and demand.

Inspired by:  Three, Wall, Thawing, a new moon in Capricorn and a partial solar eclipse.

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Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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