in the tall, oat grass

"The voice of the blood of your brother cries to me from the Earth." - Genesis 4:10

Here wars, torn children, untold
hurt and hate are ground in dirt,
en masse.

See how earth takes it all, and out of it unfolds
long, sungirt
grass.

Let me become this alchemy:
let the dirt take my heart and clarify my bones.
Unscaffold

and un-Adam me
and on my loom mend straw, till Abel groans
sungold.

Isabel Chenot

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Isabel Chenot would be pleased to hear them