Cochinilla

the root has persisted

and subsisted

clinging to the ridges

of a rigid infertile soil.

.

they imagined it was payment

for an ancient incident,

worshiping from the tutelage

of their toil.

.

i carried that serfdom

in the cradle of my womb,

a forced exodus to roam,

embedded in a koan

i could not read.

.

famished leaves know

that root dissolves stone,

and i hold my own

in the sustenance

of a vibrational tone

that resets the rest.

.

it is not the grinding

of the miller’s stone

that forms the loaves,

but the work of tender hands,

brought into an opulent land

by the force of Love alone.

.

© M.G. Iannucci 2018

Painting: “Last Dream Before Dawn” by Dorina Costras

2 thoughts on “Cochinilla

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