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

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection BROKEN PIECES available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.