They say the Beagle
Hid its truths, just like the supreme mind
Of a bald bearded man
Truths littered with Finches’ beaks
And Galapagos tortoises
After all, natural selection
Was Laissez-faire for providence

Evolution does not need
Witchcraft of the gods or machines of man
He is fine alone in his own tortoise pace
After all what chisels chemical bricks
And carves degrees of freedom
And separation, are forces of father time
With a little help from nature
And in that Darwinian legacy
Rests the origin of species
What only needed a nod and a ‘woof’
From a familiar bulldog
Barking for his master

And Darwin still lingers
As echoes inside classrooms
And in canvases of nature
Unknowing that the greatest legacy
He left was not the origins of diversity
But the premise on the freedom of choice
Bestowed on the graceful woman
After all, biology was never ruled by a patriarch
Only by a Madonna of fecundity
With the right to cast her vote
Not just on her pelvic-colonizer and seed-infuser
But on the heir to her heart’s fertility
In her descent to man.

An 1869 portrait of Charles Darwin, the British naturalist whose theory of natural selection fundamentally altered the world’s opinions about the evolution of living things.