Prayer of the Displaced

Photo by Etienne Girardet on Unsplash

Deal with it.

Our death throes
will instigate earthquakes.

Are you not my brother?
Am I not your son?
Are they not your daughters?
Are you not our parents?

Amidst our strangled weeping,
our hands are raised.

WE ARE NOT THE LEAST OF THESE.

may our rich blood
cultivate this famished earth

Aspiring novelist and amateur poet and op-ed writer on gay/queer/GSM topics. CA —> MN —> ? Stick around if I haven’t bored you yet.

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