Warm hands drip with crimison sorrows.
These are not hands of murders
Of land they had rightfully earned
To live with, not on.
From which to borrow, not take.
A cycle, a partnership, disrupted
By greed and a sense of entitlement.
Do tell me,
How does one discover land
Where families thrive?
How does one claim earth?
How does one claim Earth?
Then spreading his word
To control, to restirct, to destroy.
Stealing and then blaming you
For not keeping a better eye on it.
For not using it to its full potential.
And now what is left?