She rarely goes to tha temple, mosque or church.
She seldom reads tha vedic script, bible or tha koran.
She is skeptical of priests, prophets, yogis & imams.
She prefers climbin’ trees, swimmin in lakes, watchin birds &
admiring tha radiant sun.
She adores the shades of flowers, the patterns on leaves,
the constellations of stars, tha buzz of bizzy bees.
She seems to trust dirt & mud.
Her teachers are the dung beetle & the ant.
Her favorite dance class is that of bugs swaying salsa
with blades of grass.
She truly takes after her mother:
I want to ask Her
to be ma gal
but I know deep within she doesn’t
she loathes Man
coz he’s chokin’ her mum
pollutin’ her sacred womb…
her land her air her water…
her only one true love…
I’ll fill ma heart with dirt
saturate ma mind with brown mud
clog ma lungs with all kinda flowers.
I’ll learn to swing & jive like bugs
spend as much time with the helmeted clans
residing in cow dung.
I’ll listen to the singing birds from
sun up to sun dusk.
I’ll learn to love Earth
I’ll learn to love her
I’ll play in dirt till I turn to dust.
Maybe then I’ll win her trust
be her Earth
earn her salsa kinda Love.