Shaking Fist at the Mocking Earth

Shaking fist at the mocking earth.
Unfair is too small a word to
describe injustice.
The wind blows wrong and hair
slaps the face.
Doesn’t it laugh? Misfortune
blowing through every corner
of the ugly parts in
the world.
Cruel sun baking cracks in
soil and spirit.
Even tripping underfoot feels
like the ground swelled
and urges your
falling.
Unkind thorns reach out and catch. Holding tight until
something
tears.
Waiting for you to snap or break or
become something other than.
Stand on the flat land
grounded firm
find the kindness in the grass
and the dew
Pull your hair back and let
the breeze cool the
sweat of your
burdened
brow.
Find gnarled beauty in the
noxious bramble.
Sweetness within.
Grace and
peace to
you.

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