The Ruins

We pushed South,

running like mad.

Slave labor pools

running the land;

like insect colonies,

burrowing in the Earth.


Red rain fell

from a blue sky,

in a land

rich with gold,

cocaine and mistrust.

It was a white man’s problem

that was visited

on the rest of the world;

like the misplaced anger

of a drunken parent.


These days missed

the healing hands

of a mother figure;

when the women of the tribe

were marginalized,

ostracized and feminized

to remove their

deep ethereal understandings.

Now just witches in the woods.


Pushing deeper

we found the grey ruins

of a crumbling civilization.

One that once rose skyward

with lofty calls to God,

now brought down

by their own inadequacies.


The ancient streets

smelled of contempt and fear

and overburdened

rock tower skeletons

told a tale

of hast and consequence.

This was where creation came to die.


We had freed ourselves from bondage,

only to return to our excrement.

Dug down,

deep in the earth,

secrets that were never valuable,

but we hid them,

because we were told

they were ours.


Everything belongs to no one now.

Everyone is free,

with the whole world gone.

We relish now silent winds

that bring with them

the loss of memories.


Forgetful are the fortunate,

who cannot recall

the pain of rebirth.


HG – 2016

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