We crossed over deserts, meadows, mountains,
travelled by rivers and seas, Arctics and Antarctics,
planted vines, bridges and ports, raised sheep and sons.
We built churches, cathedrals, palaces and poor hovels.
We lit fire into dark nights and hope into sore souls
but also have made mad things we prefer never to remember.
We threw roads and rails, telegraphs, cities, skyscrapers,
yet an audacious tower, at Babel, when, our history tells,
You promptly restrained us.
Your sons became grandsons, great-grandsons, at last, us,
adoptive sons who every day attempt remember
what was like one face that has been said
we are patterned to.
Published in December 4 2015 at Whispers.
http://www.whispersinthewind333.blogspot.com
Published in February 29, 2016, at Dead Snakes
http://www.deadsnakes.blogspot.com
Published in West Ward Quarterly, Winter 2017 issue.
