Earth Mother

Earth Mother

A Poem by Marie Anzalone

Stop asking me when I am going home.

Stop calling the place I was born, Home.

Home is not with people who cheer when

babies are thrown in rivers and cages

to die forgotten and unloved; Home is not

where we celebrate an unarmed man being

run down by a self-appointed vigilante with

a pick-up truck; Home is not where we sneer

at the bravery of foreigners and make hope

wear a number tattooed on its arm. Home

is not a concrete floored machine that sells

my (yes, MY) neighbors and loved ones on

the black market or the whitewashed market

or any other market. Home is not where we

strip rosaries and clothes from the necks and

backs of children; Home is not where we pay

corporations to piss in my water and purchase

my democracy. Home is not this dystopia

that you made it; home does not paint a target

on my back because I disagree with my leaders;

My heart cannot bear the sight of Lady Liberty’s

torch snuffed and her arms in shackles; my soul

cannot laugh when white hoods are

openly worn in broad daylight on Broad Street.

Do not ask me when I am going “Home;”

ask me instead why I had to leave you to find

a place that feels like Home is supposed

to be. Home is what and where and how

you make your stand and fight and give back.

Home has next to nothing to do with where

you exited your flesh mother’s body; it is

where you plan to enter the body of your

Earth Mother in your final rest. I would rather

drown than condone what we are doing

to her and her First People. Keep your 

moth-eaten false sermons for the answer you

will give when Saint Peter asks why 

you did not use the power of your voice in 

your own lifetime to lift another up out 

wet concrete, dying rivers, and existential

cruelty. 



 

© 2019 Marie Anzalone


Author's Note

Marie Anzalone
my life here in Guatemala is hard, but please stop asking me when I am "going home." Where I was born is no longer home to me.

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Reviews

That's is true and I agree with you.
Home is we found peace and tranquility,
And not where fear make people paralyzed.
I really thank you for sharing this beautiful piece.
It makes think more about life.

Great Job! Thumb up!

Posted 4 Years Ago


2 of 2 people found this review constructive.


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Added on June 26, 2019
Last Updated on June 27, 2019

Author

Marie Anzalone
Marie Anzalone

Xecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, Guatemala



About
Bilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, grant writer, editor, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to ta.. more..

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