A Street Called Parallel

When I was a girl, in small-town America, /
There was a street called Parallel, /
Where we Protestants ran alongside the /
Catholics – an historical microcosm of /
Our ancestral nations.

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Our National Church

And then, we watch our evening shows
Where bullets fly, and people don’t die,
But miraculously rise again
To record the next
Most-watched season!

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Reapers

Reap to the edge,
Destroy the fence-row.
Make more crops
From which money grows.

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Polarity

You spoke of oranges and pomegranates, and moonlight on the Sea of Galilee…

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Eternal Cycles

I am becoming a blade of grass,
That grows and withers, yes.
But also, as it does so,
Develops some perfect Kelly green stalk…

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Color Me Crimson

As history’s mundane toil, and epic battles ensue
It’s clear no race is exempt
From ways that are imperfect, unkempt.

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Charity?

You were so thankful, and my friends
Were so proud of my gracious
Charity, seeing
I had aided
You…

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Making Maids

I fell asleep thinking about swollen river banks –  it’s
Rained for two days straight. Overnight, 
Thunder rolled outside as I rolled over
In my sleep, and woke
Thinking of Moses…

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