a poem.

I see the landscape so clearly now
that hectare I was allocated
my lot, my gift,
Weeds run wild here, unchallenged
my intent to begin
once again put off for another day,
my words so carefully sewn
all overgrown…

Because I failed to maintain it
my plough lost its edge
it opens no new ground now
nothing deep or profound,

Crows circling overhead know this patch
is dead ground,
My legacy is carrions chorus, nothing grown
all idly left to run wild,

Squandered gifts
of a promising child, golden haired child
praise given without cause
mild shy child behind Mothers skirts,

My land, my legacy….
no cause to weep
we cannot clearly comprehend the manner
or means of our own end,
only the soil will say, let us hope
for better days
with one who tends with loving hands
this patch of land.

CP26