There remains an apple that dares

to stretch out over the shadows

 

There remains the struggle over the shade

until the branch surrenders its occupation

 

There remains ‘some’ hand that uproots

the ground, driven by the pull of injustice

under the guise

of ‘a fault in the sands’

 

There remains a body of devils

emerging from the land to reveal

that the earth’s belly bears

a kingdom of demons ready for war

 

There remains a farmer

who divides the desired seed into two:

one for her children in their graves

and another for a spectre of an apple