Sunday Stew: Not mine. Oh really?

by Lola E. Peters

That flower didn’t birth itself you know
Someone planted the seed
Someone piled on fertilizer
Someone watered it
Someone cleared the ground so roots could spread
Someone did nothing and let the weed thrive
Oh it’s your flower, your plant.
You let it grow.

Ignore your racist uncle
Say nothing when a coworker is harassed
Love the food but demean the culture
Sacrifice my security for your safety at the ballot box
Oh yeah? He’s yours.

Focus on the flower
while the plant thrives
and ensure more poisonous blooms ahead.
Until you dig into your roots
this will always be
Your orange agent of death
Your murderous flower.

Oh yeah. He’s yours.

 


Featured image via Sarah Levy

emerald-donation-post-footers-power-button

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