Two poems by Jessica Kirby

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These words worked the long day Hammurabi died,
when the women of Mesopotamia wept of their fate-
unknowing of their past from which all derived.

When Tigris swallowed the banks of inventions,
the writings swept beyond the grasp
of the people mourning the death of their complacency

'What have us now?”, wondering- already and somber with
     prayer,
their eyes fell upon the whitened earth, heads tied by
     their oppression,
beyond the walls of civilization they could not see
where the Wildlings danced in freedom and equality.


Trails and Dance

I ride the peak to contemplate my view
Pick thorns from my aching legs
and swallow the familiar and the new

Whiskey glass plenty, water cups are few
Gone are rusty nails for solid wooden pegs
I ride the peak to contemplate the view

My horse's prints outlined with early morning dew
My own obscured with smears of red-orange mud
I swallow the familiar and the new
They drink to find what everyone has found
And some will drown in their own fallacious flood
I ride the peak to contemplate the view

Some carry knives, others hand-made bows
they all crave the copper taste of blood
but never swallow the familiar and the new

I slow my feet when the mocking bird flew
watch the rapacious snake feast from her eggs
I ride the peak to contemplate my view
and swallow the familiar and the new

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