Mars, oh Mars
how pink you are!
You hang in the east –
a blushing star,
Above
the abandoned quarry,
where I have come
to say, I’m sorry
For confusing you
with the god of war
when Earth
has always been his whore.
Nowhere else
does he stake his claim;
pity you
must bear his name!
As you draw near
(How you have missed her!)
see what’s become
of your fair sister. . .
Come closer, close
as you can get.
You thought you knew her,
and yet
As you gaze
into her face
through clouds
delicate as lace,
You see much
more than blue –
a motley of bruises
old and new!
Look past your envy
of a billion years,
and you will see
whole seas of tears,
Tears that cannot
wash the blood
that stains her deserts
and dyes the flood.
The god of war
will have his way
until his whore
is old and gray. . .
But long before
the pimp is through
I fear she’ll be
as red as you.
Wish her well
as you withdraw,
and tell the universe
what you saw. . .
That a planet
beautiful as this
may never know
a lover’s kiss.
mars
GARY LINDORFF, TCBH!’s resident poet, is an artist, musician, poet and counselor / dream-worker who practices shamanic techniques, and who lives in rural Vermont with his wife Shirley and two dogs. His website is BigDreamsWeb