I look through the house
At the snow in the crook of a tree
Like a white shadow
Come down from above
Just like it did a thousand years ago
When the ground was unspoiled by concrete
And the houses and garages and wires behind it
Hadn’t even been thought of yet,
Nor the walls that surround me
And my ancestors were dispersed back
To their old countries
Where the distance alone made meeting each other
Problematic.
They would have to walk a thousand miles,
Cross dangerous waters,
Suffer months or years of cruel deprivation
Even before they got the chance
To try and kill each other,
Which, when you think about it,
Explains a lot.
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