For Albert.
Loss of Faith
When the rain wouldn't come, we hired a shaman. He chanted
And danced. There still was no rain. The people around us,
Who'd been sent to college, consulted some scientists. All
Of them said that the satellite data suggested that there'd be
No rain. We suffered. We couldn't grow food. More to
The point, we became very cynical, cursing both science
And gods.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

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Written on 2025-05-15 at 03:26




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