I raked leaves
with my bare hands,
not to burn,
(cremation is so cold),
but to place around younglings
for the coming winter,
to warm and nourish
as they melt into the soil
from which they were born.
I raked leaves
with my bare hands,
not to burn,
(cremation is so cold),
but to place around younglings
for the coming winter,
to warm and nourish
as they melt into the soil
from which they were born.
I thought of you today
as I walked the dry fields
and watched rolling clouds gather
for the coming night, thought
of how you said
there is no pit so deep
that he is not deeper still,
thought of scoffers
who have not seen
what we have witnessed,
who cannot hear the unheard
and my heart was sad.
It is easier for them
to believe in aliens,
in governments,
in machines,
in the evolution of humanity,
than to trust in Love.
I thought of you today,
of how you froze and died
of starvation and disease,
flea infested and forgotten,
thought of how your love
traveled an ocean to touch
a child.
I know I’ve talked about it before, but I just came from another poet’s site where I was reminded of how much it means to me.
If you get the opportunity, check out this book. I’m in it and I’m proud that I am, not that I’m special, but that my work goes to something which I consider worthy of my care, this land that I call home.