Of Want and Waste

The people prayed and the sky fell silent.
In the clouds, their voices fell like rain
back to an unforgiving Earth,
a mother, who has abandoned her children
and sits in wait for them to return to her --
Wanderers who stop and stare at the place
where the pleas of the deceased are scattered
are careful not to disturb the words
so loosely imprinted on the bare stones
that cover the land and are covered
by the dust of years, of want and of waste.

Reviews

[Gaia Octavia]

I love the imagery of this piece and the atmosphere it creates.

It made me think about how, when we have finally used up our world, humankind will still feel like it was Mother Earth who abandoned us.

I also pictured a barren wasteland of forgotten hopes & dreams.

This is a great piece! Well done.

[James]

nailed it, all the way around. Thanks.

[Gaia Octavia]

Anytime! 🙂

[barleygirl]

This reminds me of a scene possibly taken from the dust bowl days or times of other scourges (not unlike the political one currently) . . . when life takes from us, we can't help but think about what we've wasted & how we could've planned things out better, in all different kinds of ways. I haven't seen you here in a long time, but I had this in my library to read later . . . but computer issues kept me sketchy these past couple months (all fixed now) . . . Always great to find something of yours to read! (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[James]

I wrote this a few years ago,I hope you enjoyed it. I must not have been feeling to good about the human race at the time. Good to see you too, thanks for reading. I keep hoping I'll get hit with the poetry bug again...hopefully soon.

[Ana Papaya]

James, what a strong piece of writing.
Is she a cruel mother or does she feel neglected and mistreated?
We've forgotten what it means to respect where we came from.

[James]

I'm glad you enjoyed it. I really don't know why I wrote it...it must just been one of those nights, I guess. I think she feels neglected, but I think people are neglectful of life, in general. (me being philosophical)