The bones of her children grind beneath my feet and every generation is the same. Her daughters wail from cradle to grave. The wars of her sons light my way. God in heaven, I ask you… am I not blessed? Did she see the comets fall? Or the mountains rise? Or the landmass break apart? Did she see the world in winter or the oceans rise? Or the atom split in two? God in heaven, I ask you… AM I NOT BLESSED?






