Poem: Stranger In a Familiar Land

 

Stranger In a Familiar Land

 

her flesh would never

flutter up to greet the stars,

could not quench the lust

so brazen in the prerogatives

of men.

 

no sweet truth could incite

fountains of feathers

to erupt from her back,

or carry her away from a country

of lies.

 

somewhere in the cosmos, maybe,

some advanced creatures

were lucky and lovely.  bards

born among dancers, poets

among empaths.

 

but

 

this planet of red swords

and its primates who crafted bombs

was not the place.  slaughter

would play chess with greed

and the herding of serfs and

the ups-and-downs

of money-bent smiles.

 

these answers she wrote down,

whatever angels she envisioned,

whatever guides visited her dreams,

such flickery candles

could not defeat the dark machinery

of violent, contemptuous might.

 

she cried out to gods who

might be there, and sobbed

when pure answers came

from the deepest corners

of her own mind

 

and

 

maybe that was enough to go on,

to appreciate all that was good,

and yet it would never suffice

to alleviate the familiar,

or explain.

 

 

 

 

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9/18/25 .. mods all day

I struggled with what pronoun to use for this poem, maybe I should've just used 1st person, but ...