BROODING

Brooding

With our baskets we have gathered,
A burnt offering to pray,
As our tears soak the mud of the earth,
When famine used us as prey,
An emptied belly tank we took to bed;
Where we stood in a queue at the cemetery doorway,
Till the young generation dream their dead,
On our knees a written prayer lay,
From the incantations and blood pouring red;
In welcoming a bread half a mile away,
Wailing upon a dream said;
Till we will hold a grain on a day,
And a trumpet blown over our triumph ahead.

@jcsonjenuis