The Hand of God

"The wrath of God is upon us
He punishes us for our sins
Oh the destruction, oh the curse
Of so many deaths" cried the distraught prince

"Sins not of this birth alone
But of all the past lives we've lived"
Said the royal priest with a groan
"How much could the Lord have forgived"

Thus spoke the ants as I swatted
A bunch of them with a rough brush
Of my hand when I spotted
Them on my breakfast in the morning rush

Roots

 A little sapling once asked its mother tree
"The roots that I am growing, what do they mean to me?"

"They seem to tie me down to the same boring place"
"But, my dear, they anchor you in the winds of change"

"They are covered in all things mucky and old"
"That's from where, my dear, they bring nourishment to your soul"

"They are a tangled mess spread all around underground"

"That's how, my dear, they connect you to your brethren around"

"They are so ugly, unlike my pretty leaf and flower"

"Maybe, my dear, but they are a big part of who you are"

"If I cut them loose, I can fly high in the sky"
"Maybe, my dear, but soon you'll wither and die"

What do your roots, traditions and customs mean to you?

Jan 9th, 2023