No. 10…last one


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

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