Once We Were the Refugees
We were born from refugees, those who came before
First from lands across the Atlantic, then from regions
All across the continent
For generations we grew food, raised livestock
Managed the earth’s bounty to trade for goods we
Needed through the barter economy
Then for money as the cash economy grew
We became disconnected from the earth
Wresting commodities from the soil while
Forgetting that the sustenance offered freely
Came from the ground, water and air
We owned people whose labor provided the crops
Supplanted those who lived before us on the land
Plowing over the remains of their lives and stories
We grew rich on the abundance
Then poor when the crops failed
Some of us lost our minds, took our own
Lives as the disconnect with the earth
Became more intense, more severe
But my grandmother knew
The earth speaks to us still
Calling us to marvel at what she gives
To feel the bitter cold of drifting snow
And behold the glory of yellow daffodils
To savor the intensity of wild onions
Longing for spongy soil beneath our feet
To always listen for the kingfisher’s call
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Beautiful! I think about this heritage many of us share—an ancestry of refugees. You captured this well. I especially love the turn, “But my grandmother knew.”