Doctor Green Bag

 

We Switch We Grow We Move We Sow

the ground below

We seed We weed 

We remove that takes that doesn’t belong

For a free society 

God's law intervenes

For When men lose their Way

We Knell and pray

Hands together Feel the touch

Left and Right 

East to West

We steeple the sound

The salt Water drops

She slipped her muted shaded moss tiger green shoes upon her feet, a velvet touch to walk upon the earth. Her soft denim pants so wide the grace of her step hidden from the eyes. She bore her whetted fangs for all to see, fair warning her sharp tongue blood did run. The Witch Doctor Green Bag, a rope tied round her thin waist, a pull for a soul when sometimes needed, others she gave enough to hang, as she stepped lightly up on the ground. 

Her voice was soft for only one,

"Hey Mama, you're doin' a great job." to the beautiful woman 9 children in toe. Her step was subdued, and her soul did glow, her halo only some would know, and tired she was, the weight of the world, this woman 9 children in tow.

The Witch Doctor Green Bag, her degrees of days, old medicine ways of herb and sometimes whey, looked down the path after a greeting met with delight to see a grotesque human lost in the days. The warnings all there, the soul gone to the no where, nothing to do, not this soul rope for thee for this human did not see, a little goes a long way. 

The sky then rumbled 

the earth did shake 

a gloomy cloud took shape

 not for all 

but the many 

that affirmed wrong ways.