Young Brothers, Young Sisters

Young brothers and sisters,
gather round, listen
to the sigh of the earth,
to the quiet breath
beneath her muddy breast,
the day is ending,
our tired mother settles down.

We clamber up into her lap,
colicky children fighting sleep,
hush young brothers
and hush young sisters,
loosen your small fingers
from the green tangles of her hair —

I know

all our bodies hurt
but suckle quiet beneath the stars,
let her lullaby lull us down,
let her blanket us with ivy and petals,
listen to the sigh of the night,
to the quiet high breath
of the wind in the night.

Even nestled in the cradle
of her gullies and greenwoods,
even nestled in her cool rivers
and her sun-warmed dunes,
you stir restless,
young brothers and sisters,
and I stir restless beside you
the night grows dark, mother is still,

we lie sleepless beneath the stars
with our thumbs in our mouths.

Yes, I know

tomorrow we will wake wounded still,
fevered on our worries in the light
but listen to the sigh of dawn,
young brothers and sisters,
to the quiet breath
of tomorrow’s crowning,
a timorous promise
in a small clear voice:

remember wild children,
even broken you are radiant.

— Adam Kamerer

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