My flag
is an end to all flags —
all nations, states, borders.
An end to ownership —
by state;
individual;
passed on to family.
We cannot own the earth.
She is there and we visit —
each for a brief turn.
We trace some three-score and fifteen
ellipses ’round the sun —
inscribe thirty-thousand
axis rotations — then it’s done.
In such a brief spell,
we can no more own the earth
than we can scry the darks of mind.
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Wordflower poetry 
Audio added!
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I have a similar write in the archives, the lines I remember:
You cannot own the land
No matter your demand
Good write Catherin 👏
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nice! and thank you Shaun xo
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Want to dig it out for republication on Wordflower and/or Growing the Future?
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It’s in the pipeline with a pile of other stuff from the 80s and 90s. I’ll have a look for it on the weekend. 👍
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Sounds good
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