Her Grace

Cracks on the skin
A throat parched
The internal inferno
And tremors of rage

We fight and lay claim
But it’s not “our land”
‘Tis Her grace and divinity
Upon which we stand

I began writing this poem on 8th August 2015 and gave up after the first four lines. Perhaps the weight of the subject wore me down.

May Mother Earth continue to have mercy upon us lost souls. We seem to forget that land doesn’t belong to you and me. We’re but transiting tenants in her house.