She.
in her temper,
lashes out,
rapes the land,
with her ash driven,
wind-blown fury,
then,
We.
surrender,
as a crumpled piece of paper,
in her trash can,
She.
picks us up, smooths us out,
using green and brown crayons,
tries, traces,
the outline, of who
We.
were, but,
She.
is afraid of us now,
her maw, her rib cage,
her cheeks turned inside out,
burning,
are still screaming,
at,
Us.
in horror, screaming at her,
in horror, but she, we cannot stop,
trying to erase, trace, color over,
hide, that
She.
is mother, and
We.
are her children.
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