Let me shake off the dust.
I don't know where I end and the land begins.
Red clay and white sand cling to my feet.
There's dark mud on my arms and legs.
I have black dirt under my nails.
They say God made man out of the dust of the earth.
No man is complete that does not own a piece of it.
Ah but which ground?
Natives to this land said no one owns it, it is a gift for all.
Blown like a tumbleweed I have no roots and know no fences.
Born on the side of towering peaks, with glacial creeks, and pine forests,
it is there that my primal images sleep in dreams.
Years later, reaching manhood in the tropics,
with its palms, exotic floral fragrances and balmy weather
I found my first love and there resides my heart.
I floated on a thistle on the breeze of hope.
Drifting to the desert and its windblown dunes, that stretch to the horizon,
there I found the mirage of peace.
Disillusioned I abandoned my soul to the sand
The Pacific coast and its mild weather offered an easier life.
Ignoring the price for a forbidden apple, I purchased the seeds of knowledge.
Banished to mortality and earning my keep by the sweat of my brow.
There you will find my mind.
On the plains with its bison and waving grass seas
I plowed fallow ground,
nervously awaiting life giving rains and death dealing tornadoes.
There I sowed, harvested and sold my crop,
leaving behind my sweat and footprints as I trudged to
the frozen north.
In an eternal winter of intolerable cold,
I shivered through long nights, that turned my spirit to ice.
In frozen ground I buried my pride.
Migrating southward, white sand beaches, palm trees and hurricanes, with black mud alligator marshes, anchored my feet to what felt like home.
Digging my toes and heels into the sandy sea bottom, rip tides pulled me away,
the salt from my tears joining its mother's currents.
Spirited south, to the rain forest canopies of tropical mountains,
strewn with granite rocks and red clay soil,
the voices of thousands of years are whispered by every moss covered bolder and tree.
Lost with no trails, thick foliage and thorns rip and tear my flesh.
Dirt, baptized with my blood, becomes a philosophers stone changing the inanimate to life.
I, like Osiris, am torn in pieces and scattered over the earth.
I lie in distant places, awaiting Isis to gather my parts.
I am the rock, clay, mud and sand that covers me.
I don't know where I end and the land begins.
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: April 13th, 2023 06:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: sophin
Online)
Comments5
An epic expression in poetry Soren! As the dust hurries on to claim me back it intensifies its meaning and appeal.
Dear Cryptic I thank you so much for your read and comment. Time takes us all. I hope not you, too soon. We are nothing more than that dirt that makes us but we cling on to what little we have. As I approach my ending years I look back on memories and what I have to leave behind. Thank you again for your valued review.
"Blown like a tumbleweed I have no roots and know no fences. "
"the voices of thousands of years are whispered by every moss covered bolder and tree.
Lost with no trails, thick foliage and thorns rip and tear my flesh."
beautifully expansive, dear poet. to be able to resonate with to the primal wilderness that birthed us is a magnificent thing in this modern age, and I applaud you for being able to express the feeling of being free but not lost
Thank you very much for your review and kind words. Your comments are deeply appreciated.
We are all part of this earth and will be back within it some time. Very good words soren.
Andy
Thank you so much Andy for your welcome read and most kind words
a majestic waterfall of poetic decadence
simply beautiful, my wise friend:
'Natives to this land said no one owns it, it is a gift for all.
Blown like a tumbleweed I have no roots and know no fences. '
'Ignoring the price for a forbidden apple, I purchased the seeds of knowledge. '
'I shivered through long nights, that turned my spirit to ice.
In frozen ground I buried my pride. '
'Dirt, baptized with my blood, becomes a philosophers stone changing the inanimate to life.'
'I am the rock, clay, mud and sand that covers me.
I don't know where I end and the land begins.'
Dear L.B. once again your most gracious words humble me. I thank you for your welcome review.
grandeur summoned forth within my mind after perusing the contents of the poem titled Rock, clay, mud and sand - quite a profound metrical and magical evocation of (my interpretation) the corporeal connection of man (singular or plural) part and parcel of Gaia, that living and breathing oblate spheroid lodged within the infinite abyss of space.
Thank you so much for the read and interpretation of this one of my longer pieces
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