The Last Crumbs of Our Time

Covered in
the dust of history,
disgraced intelligence
begs for more
than the common themes
handed down by man,
as Her story bled out
along the shore.

A goddess wrapped
in the cloak of a mother,
to be used and abused
as woman often are,
our fate, left in
the hands of a jealous spirit,
fell to a damnation
calloused in war.

For, when sinners as
our true selves we accepted
and divinity we left in
the hands of the unknown,
we forgot the consciousness
that within was living,
and our hearts to only
materials would be sewn.

Now, faced with near
certain extinction
from a world abused
for sheltering a foolish kind,
we follow the lure
of worldly riches,
restless not for peace
but the last crumbs of
our time.

 

Written for NaPoWriMo:  National Poetry Writing Month

featured photo by Sreejit Poole

7 Comments

  1. Reblogged this on kgbethlehem and commented:
    Ok, Ok, people people..
    I stumble by pure accident on this powerful poem. The flow of it grasps strongly at—-heart. Check this out from the “The Seeker’s Dungeon” called..
    THE LAST CRUMBS OF OUR TIME
    Friday Night Poetry Corner #26 starting off and ending strong!! Thanks again for the support and support the “Dungeon!”

    Like

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