Detritus
You can tell me
that what happens
upon the soil
beneath our feet
does not matter
that the violence –
gunpowder
bullets
landmines
blood spilled
and rot of bones and flesh
does not affect the terroir
that the terror
over centuries
on land –
disputed
and stolen
fought over
conquered
and lost
is not ad infinitum
buried in this graveyard
called home
You cannot tell me
that what happens
upon the soil
beneath our feet
does not matter
that the battles –
sweeping or contained
as enemy or ally
are not eternally captured in the earth
dust inhaled and ingested
but also embedded
in our collective consciousness
like a rusty compass
nestled in the palm of each newborn child
its arrow clearly pointing
to the forever trenches
of inheritance.
