dawns of unannounced mornings
off in the distant future dwell,
the past reminds us of all
to which we have no access,
remembering what was as if
it will somehow buy us time;
dead is dead and near death
is what we all are living in
desperate little silos as if
stored for a hungry future;
fields are plowed without
proper machines and lives
are lost without proper care
as doctors flock to become
law enforcement agents of
a quickly dying urban area;
we live each dawn as sunset
and each sunset as yesterday
from which we learned nothing,
offering hope on Sundays
along with the tithe that was
stolen from our neighbors who
were tending unfurrowed ideas.
26 October 2020
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