When History came to call
I did not recognize him.
Being so unlike my own recall
I feared perhaps
my mind was wobbling―
which would not be a first or last.
My appraising stare at History
as he stood at my door
wasn’t just at the details he displayed
but the very subject matter
that bulked his mighty physique.
For I have known the glory and pain
of birthing a child and watching him grow,
experienced the glow a lover’s touch bestows,
eaten the food prepared by
someone who loves to serve,
and held the hands of
those who were never
written up in anyone’s books.
I multiply my affairs
through centuries of human living
and I say to History―
as he waits at my door―
“your stories of war ad nauseam,
of brutal conquering generals,
of male, monotheistic gods,
and philosophy, art, and literature
all reflecting and reshaping the same,
is not a past I can praise
nor one I wish to record.”
“But please do come in, History,
sit by my fire
and tell me all you know
of the stories that happened in-between.”
Excerpted from my new poetry collection, My Earthy View.
Buy now on Book Baby | Pre-order on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.