The earth is just a picture of all
We have and have done to ourselves
The crumbling image of its soul
When it looks in the mirror-world
And sees how young it is and old
Each one in our foreign places
Until I immigrated to you
Leaving behind everything I loved
Your picture seemed so quick and real
You earth a woman and a god
How can you have so many children
And still be a virgin-crone
And stand where Ezekiel stood
Lifting his morning horn
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