-35 in the dead heart of winter
Shuffling emperors guard their eggs more than jewelled crowns
The women, they have gone, to have their meals, finish their trade
with the ocean, make sure their economy of survival is fulfilled
In the desperate blizzard, the men, they shuffle, and huddle
Accountability in real time, not in an afterlife
There over the tundra, black breaks the white,
The women return, they are full, have enjoyed the freedom
of replenishing returns
Reunion kisses, the hand over, you came back, why not
the crown jewel is hatched,
look its ok
There are near misses, falls into ravines, abandonment of the post
dusts ups between those with and the those without, at least until next year's shot
But no traitors, no unfaithful, no victors, only the frigid wind stirring the ice
And when its time the kids are kicked out, but they soon learn to huddle
to reach the open feast of the ocean
This is not indolent conquest by bullets, or machine gun fire
Just the making sure everyone lives day in day out
Clare L Rolfe © 2021 (thinking upon Afghanistan)
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