How do you think
I got here? Blown in
on a yellowing leaf? Do you think
we seeped into your cities
or your suburbs with the rain?
How do you think it happened?
Do you think we rode
the backs of waves, shattering —
flotsam jetsam against white cliffs?
Or did we spring out of the earth
from seeds you’d sown
and then forgotten.
Every one of us came here
for a reason. Ask
your ministers, your generals.
Ask them what treaties they signed
ask what they bartered and stole
what game they used us for.
Or will you go on thinking
we simply fell out of the sky
and that is why we smoulder still?