In the realm of pomegranate
we are believed to be children
of the mythical fruit. Indeed.
You search for the seeds:
embryos in the fleshy womb
the color of blood
to become later fruits of consumption.
But the children from the old myth were not born of the pomegranate. They were born of drought and Demeter's fury. Children were born of the gods 'fear of emptiness, they were to suffer in the absence of tithing. Born of destruction…
…and where are now
the invisible children of disaster?
Dark rains (Chernobyl Hiroshima)
Bhopal- deadly gases
The unborn children of the forty millions nine hundred sixty-eight thousands dead ( in the wars of the 20th century).
...another said two hundred millions almost, if one counts all dead in conflicts we haven't denominated as war ...
Never to be born children of mothers jumping of the windows of the Triangle building during the Fire of 1911 because their bosses locked the doors : you shan't leave here unless you are done or dead.
Not even in the realm of pomegranates
were we safe. This land were each had mother and father,
and a heart to hold in front of a just God.
Not even in our washed blue
dresses we saw//our hands in our mothers hands
for school: Old Order Amish Nickel Mines.
and if you did not knew it already, Western Pennsylvania was always a very good place for the pomegranate...