Our Mother, of the earth
More sacred then the son
Calling now for your rebirth
In me and everyone.
Give us each thoughts in our head,
A smile for our face;
Forgive us for the tears we’ve shed
The salt used in it’s place.
Forgive us for the hate that’s grown
Like weeds upon our heart
That turned us into hollow stone
And drove us each apart.
As our budding life began
And now as it does flower.
Give us back our cherished land,
Before the final hour.
By Erin Monica Evans Fitz-James
Please note that opinions expressed are the author’s own. They do not necessarily reflect the views and values of The Blank Page.
