I count the stars in my skies…: A poem 

Count the stars in the skies 

as my wounds. The blue of 

the universe may just be my blood 

I keep the tears away or else 

they may just create a flood; 

We don’t need all that water 

We just need the salt, to remind 

us of the stuff that we came from 

Yet, this anguish has been the food 

for perpetrators, with greed in their bones, 

but who keep dusting their guilt off their coats 

They just don’t want to feel all that dirty linen 

even if they reek of its stench, and have guilt’s 

gripe in their throats and bellies. It only 

reminds us of that desecrating annexation; 

of tides coming in with those marauding boats 

and the earth taking the violence in her limbs 

But her children are her own flesh and blood.

I have grown up knowing my stars as my own; 

every one of them, even if they are one too many  

too string up. And if greed wants its share or possession, 

I will no longer have or keep any of them as my gems!