She Lies upon her back
A tired old sequinned whore
Her once full breasts
Lie flaccid and dry...
All youth expelled
No longer
Proud races to suckle

With arms akimbo
She once stood
A gleaming flush of youth
Holding the bread-basket
Of our Earth...
Promise in her uncultured
A mist upon her dawn

With red painted lips
A vivid slash...
And ethnic hatred
Tearing open a jagged wound
She stoops with
The cancer of corruption
Within her belly and womb

Tears fall glistening
On her wrinkled, dusty cheeks
As she remembers...
Her quivering thighs
Birthing haughty tribes
Who carried
Honour codes in their hearts
And peace throughout their realms.

© Susan Jahme