© by Christine Fischer
patchamama we have measured you
almost to the smallest stone
but who you are is long forgotten
all your secret gardens rotten.
deprived you of your mystic name
inventing far a god above.
for to despoil you of your limbs
“make earth subject” as bible prints
consider us creation´s crown
don´t realize it as you frown
too many greeds, we act without
even just the slightest thought
but we´re your children,
you´re our ground.
we ache cause we do
share your wounds.