Poetry

When Things Were Sacred

A poem on desecration

Photo by Jonatan Pie on Unsplash

There was a time when things were sacred.

There was a time when the skies belonged to the gods, the oceans to Poseidon, the Kraken, and Sirens.

There was a time when man knew his limit and struggled to find his place within it.

Now,

now he reaches for the stars—

not as an ascension of character, discipline, or devotion.

But as another commodity, an escape route.

To seek refuge from the holes we’ve dug — the seas we’ve trashed — the mother we’ve abandoned.

Our womb.

Left bleeding in the delivery room of our mistakes.

I’ve been away for a few years, rebuilding my life from the ground up…brick by brick. This is my first full piece since stepping away, and I’m grateful to be back home at Scribe. I’d love to know what you think!

Looking for more? Consider reading Bare Birch, Whispering Pines, Cathedral Grove, Evergreen or Sonoran Slumber here on Scribe if you enjoyed this.

As always, thanks for reading! Until next time, Ally 💙