Beyond the Flatlands

While the moons circle to the east
the sun rises in west
dust and shit flies
whip in the green dust storm
tentacles and limbs
dot the flatlands.

I wipe the sweat from
my hands and sling the plasma
gun over my back, wave
my hand, we slink in between
shrinking shadows

I didn’t ask for this
I wanted to be alone
in my hut
in the ground and watch the moons
volley sunlight

but I  heard them cry
and there has to be something better
then this place
then this war

I’ve heard a place
a place of freedom
where sanctuary is given
to those who make it across the border
where dumpsters overflow with food
where it rains water

I’ve heard of a place
a place of wealth and safety.

I’ve heard of a place that
has to exist beyond propogandic stories

We walk toward the west ward sun
another day, another fifty miles
I can see the green grass shining like
polished emeralds beyond the golden road.


***
Hey all, here is poem 22.  I felt pretty inspired by the prompt today. I sat  down and just wrote. And this whole story came out. I like how it turned out. A little different than what I have been writing.

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