there was a time we

watched the skies from

a different point in the universe

we saw even the ones

that were invisible

then cotton came

we crossed the

graveyard to serve

cotton sugar indigo

spitting out the eaters of horses

into the storm

sore from bondage

bent spirits never bowed

unbroken planting themselves

on the side of a hill

praying life out of it

holding on to it with bleeding

fingers  rubbing hope

between calloused palms

breathing out a future

that would be taller

go further went farther

sold the land

went to the city

got degrees

that said we know

should have held on to the land

now landless in the city

where the ground is melting

where what you know

is not what you need

having forgotten what you

should have remembered

larger stars tales from

the graveyard indigo sugar

and old cotton

you find yourself

in the wrong conversations

hugging the wind that

won’t blow for you

consumed by hunger

no horses to eat here

broken promises

debts due

no horses mules

or acres of land

what’s left to be

manifest in the eye

of the whirlwind

how will tomorrow

eat how will we

survive the day

unless we snatch

the thunder sing

the lightening

become the force

that drives the storm

calling forth the morning after

with the road cleared

for the tale the future

rooted as firmly

as the horse eaters

imagined in cold winters

looking over barren fields

sharpening knives

to clear our path