“No Man is an Island…” J. Donne

by Elvira

Plates              moved

Continents once                                  ONE

                                    Cut

                                    Creating a Nouveau Monde

Bridges                       crossed  effortlessly

            Now                required          kayaks;            the

Furred masses                                     no longer able

                                    To pass            without help.

They                            stopped           only when safe;

            And                 created                        families

They                            genuflected

                                    Thinking         the sun

                                                            The trees

                                                            The animals

All                               greater             than themselves

The future.

Groups                                    erected                        ziggurats

            Their own Babels:

                        Engendering               Walls

                                                            Fortress

                                                            Mastery

Minds              KNEW                                    no bounds:

Ego-/ethnocentricism

                        Wrapped                     in bits of cloth

Or                                                        holy book

                        Took                            NO prisoners

                        Tentacling                   their version

Of isolationishm;

                        Bellicousing

            “Mine IS the TRUTH!”

Some               compromised;

The Rest          convinced                   with swords

The Age of the CRUSADES              NEVER ends!

This land, this America,

                        Separated by oceans

                        Intimates (intimates) that

It                      knows              best

It                      doesn’t!

In the end,       All returns to dust

            And is weighed by Anubis’ scale

                        Travels                        then to

Darkness;                                            to

Light,              knowing          not the other side

                                                            Of the mountain

                                                                        River

                                                                        Grave

But                  casting            dice     on the devines

                        BLACK ICE!

Afterward:      “It is the oceans which cut us off

                        From the world-it’s the American

                        Way of looking at things.”-Henry Miller

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