The Daily Race
The Daily Race
I, too ,am a seed
Sprouting amongst difficulty
Skilled hands gather the harvest
Forsaken, with greed
Scarves and bonnets
Mask sovereignty
Fowl of the air gather
Early mornings
Unarmed
To take a familiar course
One with self and the creator
Rock dove, Silver, black and blue
They drift across the sky
Circling the clouds
Beggars, they prowl
city streets
Forlorn crumbs
On concrete
Standing on lamp posts
As too, cable cords
Despite resistance
Gentle hands
Spare
Stale bread
Bird debris
A pinch of pride
Reclaiming territory
Locks of rope and cord intertwined,
Braiding , a ritual of all time
Broken skin
Broken winged
Your pain is too hard to comprehend
Wooly black cotton
interwoven thread
My crown and glory
Net and web
Obsidian claws
Grasp white cotton
To clothe the beasts and fellow entities
Marckincia Jean
Free Verse
11/09/21
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