Gaia and the warlord

This poem / song is one that I wrote a few years ago. It feels apt to share it again this Spring…

GAIA AND THE WARLORD 

Only she and the moon could know

the graveyard of his mind

fraught with nameless terrors

and thoughts of the killing kind;

a tyranny of errors

and insects fighting among themselves

in a power-hungry famine

frightfully unwell.

She saw his false smile

ashen-grey face

talked in defiance

of his fascist ways

and she refused to eat

at his cold banquet

of sold-out theories

and old salad.

(When she took off her gloves

from under her fingernails

stardust of love fell

through the haze.)

She’d completely lost all of her appetite

but wanted to believe and so she thought

that he’d a good heart inside;

his filthy hands smeared brown bread

with screaming children’s cries

still she sat down at his table

though the dream of peace was denied.

(When she took off her gloves

from under her fingernails

stardust of love fell

and caused him to faint.)

He shook and she thought that his heart of blame

could be made from steel or rock, but learn to beat again

so she cocooned him in the raw silk of her soul

until moon night faded into a dawn like gold.

But in the new day, oh he was still dark as night

so she left him in the graveyard

went home to her starlight tribe

and they all restored a garden to bountiful delight

the warlord kept rambling, doubting his own mind.

Fire and water

Air and Earth

No more war

Let Gaia rebirth.

Kathryn Crowley is a writer and art-maker living in Kerry, Ireland. She works as a tutor to children and adults, and is currently creating a new collection inspired by ecology and the sociology of health.

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