or The History of the World

When snow collects in the Winter and rivulets trickle down the hills in the Spring,
We can grow our wheat and olives and pile them in our granaries and our cisterns.
And if we succeed we can send them across seas and deserts and reap our good fortune.
We can anoint ourselves with exotic herbs and parade ourselves in silks and jewels.
We can build massive columned gathering places with somber alters and broad theaters,
And churches with countless thousands of pebbles making pictures of animal husbandry.
Then we can gather in throngs and shout praises and glorify leaders while we decry their retreating enemies.
And if we don’t succeed we will leave empty concrete shells of houses with blown-out windows by the highway.
And we will let our gates clang shut and bang open again permanently while we pile on flatbeds for the city.
We will vanish into the blend of the world and forget the land we knew and cared for and worshipped.

Andy Oram
February 20, 2017

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