Feast

I didn’t really make the table 
There was no foundation
Just the earth
And the way it called us forth
We answered and obeyed
Responsive and in tune
With eyes of a hawk
The lullaby of a mysterious fox
Leading her pack
To the river
Where we undressed
And cleansed eachother 
With hands like velvet
And breasts like flowers
Then man came down with his jaded hammer
When he burned my fingers 
We stopped being natural
We stopped being ourselves
Kindness was weakness
Subtlety replaced with selfishness
And marching with the ants
With no uniqueness
Or sparrows shy dance
I ran far and fast
I made caves from ashes
I don’t need a uniformed salute to tell me I am beautiful
God made this creature real
I licked my hurting skin
I replaced the dead cells
I am a butterfly from the carcass shell
Hiding where mans ignorance does not learn to dwell
Casting shadows from entrance 
Mans eyes warped from the serpent
Until I’m found again
The torture of obedience
The feast of my own skin

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