meal prophecy / hymn to the harvest gods (after I Can See the Future by Leith Ross)
like leeks in spring we will be tenacious
with the staying power of
we will spread like honeysuckle,
seen everywhere like catnip and mint,
and beloved like wild strawberries.
fruitful like the pomegranate, vital like grain:
didn't we tell them monocultures were bad?
like dandelion, we will grow
where they try to weed us out.
like spores we will remain everywhere, even unseen.
they will try to make a meal of us, chew us up nor spit us out,
but the shit they spread will carry our seeds farther. is that too gross to say?
everyone digests, and all bodies die,
and they will overturn like leaves, and sap will remain
we're gonna cook them down. do you get it yet?
the land will grow rich, rich from their decay.
bees will flourish,
the seas are still rising but we're learning to float.
the world will learn to value the slow harvest,
the careful tending,
old wisdom and the new, mixing like wine.
mugwort, i know your name, i drank you in and smoked your breath,
and this i dreamed: we are planting carefully, and some of this will grow.
queer people will be safe one day, the workers will be paid,
the children will be fed, the parents will have rest, the dead will be buried, the nations will be free
Palestine, Sudan, Kashmir, Congo, from the river to the seas that are still rising but we'll rebuild and renew.
give us roses while we live so we can drink it in our tea.
to love humanity is to want us all to eat.
