Poem: Scant Ration

Another harking back to tribal cultures, where my prejudice tells me that the less civilized life is the more civil.

Scant Ration

I theorize, permitted in the sense
That theories are not laws, belonging
to any mind or state of grace
caring to wander or wonder

Sometimes, in that state suspended
I drift to tribal cultures, test hypotheses
where any breast will feed a child
Skin hunger fed by carrying the young

Only need fulfilled, a scant ration
always shared, knowledge of elders
taken wide eyed, given one on one,
honored both ways in love and trust

Humanism at its core, in simplest form,
power lunch and power love unknown
The wheel wasn’t such a damned good deal
It rolls, we forget to trust and love ourselves

Less is more, God is in the details, words of Mies
applied to buildings, defining tribal souls
Time there to watch the wanderings of days,
hold the hand that reaches out without a price
Poetry Collection: Broken Pieces
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman's
poetry collection
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