in a bloodied jungle- 

not the sort of 

pristine, untouched 


you imagine in 

your Audi 

during the to and fro

that is the drudgery 

of your daily life-


I mean the ravaged, 



the bloodstained canopies

of warred 

and buried earth


where the people 

know my surname 

and the crowds jostle 

when I return 

that is my person, 

that is my blood 

it stains the leaves 

and you.. 

you are nothing  

your words are water 

and with this pain 

I am meant to grow. 
– sheila c. 

8 thoughts on “jungle

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