It is no lie that the scrunched fists and inexpert fingers which carved shapes respresenting language, wrought the shapes from privilege causing materials and education to come at a price beyond the common hut dweller. Secrets and power, bore out, stamped and sealed with gold kept for selected audiences. They took their blocks and then their quills and they wrote the world,
their slender wrists ignorant of poverty or labour And now in hallowed motherboards the same wrists hold sway as though we haven't evolved at all Meanwhile the creeks clog and the wildlife choke and the poor starve among flies and disease and pandemics flow easy as water but in their ivory strongholds nothing has changed. Not even the fear of losing it all.
Submitted to Earthweal’s Open Link Weekend #73 July 4th, 2021