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an occupation

as though there are nine sacred stones
rounded by ocean
each fit in the palm of hand
set in a row under the sun

in the natural course of night
a thief comes in with the darkness as velvet
and replaces the first with another
waits until the replacement is accepted
then another in this way the old
is replaced with the new but
do not expect now the justice we won
the trees that grew from our blood
the song you could never forget
the scent which makes you remember her
those were the price of your comfort
amid sorrows of the world sustaining
the day to day of all we fight against

and would you let them replace us
with whoever will oppress - lost to the greed within
who beat us into the ground to the ledges
to the shield until we are the stone
that can't be moved
that can't answer or heal
the pain of your discovery

                                  - by john bart gerald



First published in Des Pardes ~ Today, "Special Diwali Issue," Vol. 1, No 1
Ottawa: Fall 2006



gerald and maas
first posted december 23, 2006
copyright © 2006, by john bart gerald