In This Garden…

Boy, I spilled blood.

I cried with the Sun God.

I buried my face and

Found grace in the taste

Of this mud.

I chopped down my enemies,

And burned their effigies,

To convert that energy

Into the Sun God’s feast.

I hate to be graphic,

But before it was over,

I’d strung so many Green Cousins up,

I can never make atonement…

And that’s non-fiction.

Understand me. I paid my dues

To the Sun God, whose name I won’t honor with mention…

But I loved the night’s

Wild breeze.

I craved darkness.

Hardly did I want to make another

Sacrifice to him…

And this was my Papa’s garden.

My birthright.

So when he told me to leave,

I sat on a slab and crossed my legs.

8 years old, and I stood my ground…

So the Sun God stripped away my skin…

Golden brown…

And went down.

So did I. Oh, I was alone.

Then came the Moon,

With a good idea…

And in a new fashion,

She offered me pardon.

She freckled my face

To match her stars…

And by her own light,

Painted me anew,

In this garden.

Now I have found her favor… And her servant is HIGHLY regarded.

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