Small victories are victories
but we have work to do.
The hate has grown and grown,
unruly, spiteful gardens
made to strangle.
The weeds have slipped up under
our stockings and the burrs
are clinging to our knees
like tears cling to lashes.
Small victories are victories
but we have work to do.
Our gloves are muddy
so we will use our hands.
Callouses splitting on palms
and bruises digging on fingertips.
Unearth the sleeping dahlia bulbs
and rescue them from the anger-caked plots.
Protect the quiet roots.
We may have won a battle
but there is work to do.
Small progress is progress
but it is not enough.
What is addicted to its own history
cannot move past its mistakes.
We have work to do.
We have to start now.
but we have work to do.
The hate has grown and grown,
unruly, spiteful gardens
made to strangle.
The weeds have slipped up under
our stockings and the burrs
are clinging to our knees
like tears cling to lashes.
Small victories are victories
but we have work to do.
Our gloves are muddy
so we will use our hands.
Callouses splitting on palms
and bruises digging on fingertips.
Unearth the sleeping dahlia bulbs
and rescue them from the anger-caked plots.
Protect the quiet roots.
We may have won a battle
but there is work to do.
Small progress is progress
but it is not enough.
What is addicted to its own history
cannot move past its mistakes.
We have work to do.
We have to start now.
- fire girl's blog
- Sprout
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Treblemaker
Nov 29, 2020
'The weeds have slipped up under/ our stockings and the burrs /are clinging to our knees/ like tears cling to lashes.' love that line, I hate burrs and I felt them in my socks. powerful writing!
I write because the music of language spoke to me in books and I wanted to make a beautiful noise to answer back ~ Lee Williams.