Loam
4/24/13
If the sun wants to blaze
You best let it
Let it leather your neck
Bleach your cover
Scorch your ground
Don’t curse your G-d
Make a fist to the Owner
Of whose land you’ve leased
The rain will come, at least
That’s what I have found
In Heaven, where the weather
Is never spoke to curse
Fertile ground my home
Every seed dispersed
Blessed to be sown
And when I die, they will talk
About me like a myth
And my children make new roots
In land they called my own
Like Heaven, like loam