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I Stand

A poem by Cynthia Anne Cashman

in rebellion
I stand

in the land of mortal man
the ones with
the power of Zeus
that slay me on their
moral grounds
for being so obtuse
they the pedestals
do claim
thrones for kings
and depraved beasts
the working slaves
do scream
with unheard voices
clamoring in the din
Queens still chained to beds
to keep their heads
children orphans
to kingdoms lost
living in the current mess
affairs of men
not of gods
Olympus save us all

Cynthia Anne Cashman

published in Genre: Urban Arts Second Edition

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The wisdom of an oak tree runs deep, the history intimate.

Perhaps you are familiar with how Absalom’s hair led to his demise. Maybe you respect the oak because Zeus chose this mighty tree as his oracle, the centerpiece of the righteous. Based on the rustling of its leaves, priests would interpret messages from the gods. Most likely, though, you revere the oak simply due to the symbolic nature of its strength.

Either way, never fail to recognize the way an oak tree reminds us not only to admire the splendor of its leaves or the tenacity of its trunk but to understand what’s deeper, below the surface: roots connect–no–bond people. The natural ways in which someone is truly rooted to another, the tangle of souls intertwined, simply and completely.

Here lies true wisdom.