If I call myself Beloved
I cannot trade my life for trinkets.
I must not pursue more than my due.
I may not treat my body like a dumpster.
If I call the stranger Beloved
I cannot smash his head with a bat.
I must remove my hand from his pocket.
I may not force myself on his wife.
If I call the earth Beloved
I cannot mine her oceans.
I must not poison her air.
I may not abuse her wildlife.
I become one with the moth on the screen,
the mouse in its nest, the hawk in
the sky.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Published by
Cynthia M. Sheward
Cynthia Sheward has written poetry since she was a child. She was born in Massachusetts but spent her young life in New Jersey. She applied her English degree from Arcadia University teaching junior-senior high school in Vermont the 70’s. In the 80s, she and her husband built their own house with their own hands in the mountains of North Carolina. In the 90s, she returned to NJ where she worked for a Fortune 500 corporation until her retirement.
Her work has been published in Friends Journal, Evening Street, the Bennington Banner, Fiber Arts Magazine, the Mountain Times and various other print media.
She currently resides in Jupiter, Florida.
View all posts by Cynthia M. Sheward
A beautiful poem Cindy. If we all could only live that way.
LikeLike