In Triplicate

Will I, Earth, Mother…remember this toil upon my terrain, once it’s crumbled
Once fallen?

Will the welling up in our main artery…a bisected, panic-stricken, slow-motion pain
Calm, then?

Will I, will we…now with only light again — separated from darkness
Become stars?

Photo Credit: Lisa Mae, FieryPhotography.com; “Tempera Stars on Blacktop”

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