Where Is The Village Poem by Scott Stevenson

where is the village
for the child, where
do we reprimand if we are
blind
it takes a village to
wheel a world out of the mud
a ray of light takes
nonsensical music
out of our minds, where
do we crack our whips
if the day
ends too soon upon us
if sunlight prizes begin
if
the june we're reaching for
wrinkles like a raisin
it takes a machine to
flatten
your stars out upon us
where are we walking, and
where do
our wounds lick themselves
if the distance
comes beyond its box, why
will we run and hide
it isn't easy if the alien air
burns healthy cells
the white fire is over
if we wish it enough, when
one
time we have
is handed in poison intentions
this is where we leave our branches behind
it takes a whole
army of saint statues to persuade us
if the heat is out, if where
we dropp our spells is where
the tiger picks his claws clean,
where the end of the world waits
in dark patience
for its turn
for are we really born
the way they tell it, are we ousted
in simple chains, it takes
a whole day to figure it out
the clouds take stages of jealousy
over the sheet of sky
they envy
the secret is why
we watch them and fly between them,
how nature can
find itself so bendable
it takes smooth plastic and mechanical
work
to feed us
we are not so strong as to
suppose that
it's a disgusting habit
we are not so powerful to move
anyone out of their comfort
we are not so high that we can
make anyone wealthier than they have to be
do they have to smile down so often
where is the village to teach them what to say