majestic hands

with the strength to clap thunder

pull sun over horizon,

it rips through the stratosphere

and bruises the sky

down below

avaricious humans

struck with a hunger for power; its

intoxication sitting pretty in 

the marrow of old bones.

they scratch their names

on tectonic plates and draw

invisible lines dividing

man from man.

this earth-

this earth does not belong to you

town, city, province, and country;

places where corruption 

has a tighter hold around the throats

of the people it keeps poor.

the war-stricken streets

are no place to call home.

places where freedom checks

wallets before giving itself up 

and where justice reaches for 

bribes under the table.

there are people who carry a love

for their motherland that

transcends borders, that

lives beyond the backdrop of greed.

what is so alien about

a human being?

they are stamped 

foreign and unwanted.

i say dreamer.

i say fighter.

boats sway,

arms tire out, and

the trains rumble on.

monsters are so quick to claim

what is not theirs to have;

surprisingly adacious

for mere mortals.

this earth-

this earth does not belong to you

the sky begins to heal,

color fades, and

a great hand catches all light 

in its palm