In Chaos there is Cosmos

How green was my valley

How green was my valley,
before they came
carrying crimson soil on their heavy boots
stamping out every flower,
yellow, blue or white

They brought a new tongue
shoved it down our throats
we then lost our voice
for words spoken by native mothers
where not heard by their sons

They came on black horses
and stole our silver mares
ate our grain and burnt the mill
Our stables were left to muddy pigs
our houses now kennels with chains

They stripped our loamy soil
thirsty, drank our rivers dry
stood atop the mountains
and it crumbled under pressure
washed away with the summer rain

In winter they hunted wolves
In summer shot our blue jays
In spring they drank tea
As our children twirled about
Till they got dizzy and fell

Their god came with them
handsome head and a crown of thorns
our maiden was no match
for she loved everyone
but they loved only him

Some called it progress
One called it the fall of hubris
afraid or eager to please
they said it was about time
but what if it was too late?

Now my valley is yellow
my blue skies grew pale
daughters are afraid of the toxic rain
sons afraid to grow up
fight the war we never won

My green valley still resides
in these words and others
spread it like wildflowers
for wildfires are extinguished
by the new memories, they give us

Art: The White Horse by John Constable