The Remains

A poem I wrote recently at my writing group.

As the resin hardens on the trees

and cicadas’ song fills the air

The chieftain looked out over

the arid land

Once a garden

now a desert

A look of sickened bias

plastered under his brow

His mind turned to a begotten time

thinking again of the blood-drenched drama

A turbulent wind sweeping over the fields

A storm in the distance

Legion of the night

Alien to this land

And though his heart beat strong and fierce

like a lion poised to pounce

every ligament tense and taut

His spear had broken

his growl died in his throat

The only thing of mind or matter to remain

his leer and broken heart

The life and light of the land gone

a slab left behind

The rudder of their boat trailing a streak of red

in its wake

Reviews

[Chris]

So many paused... I wonder what they - saw - behind their eyes. No, really I do. And what held their silence. Following your thoughts was readily apparent - at least within my own perspectives. I did see the old Indian commercial with the tear flowing down his cheek at the recognition of HIS America as it was in that day's today. I've wandered places that aren't there anymore and miss so many that few will miss me.

We each exist within what we decide are our limits but so few will stand tall at their end and face what their reality became... and so few understand the how or why's of it... just the loss.