Monday, February 11, 2019

The Soil

She’s a heaving, breathing,
Feminine being.
Full of curves and points and hard parts and softness.
Laid bare by her carers,
Suffering the cold wind,
Bitten and bitter.
Her skin tears and she bleeds,
Wind whipping, scratching, opening wounds that do not heal.
Without any winter clothes she is vulnerable,
Weakened and worn.
Her power and energy flung wayward,
Watched dispassionately by her stewards.
Yet, with spring’s warmth
She will be called on to wake
And swallow what is fed to her
And endure her trials of tillage and seeding.
She’ll be expected to nourish the babies,
Give her whole self,
Absorb the poisons designed to protect the babies but
That weaken her, kill her immunities 
And open her to disease.

She sighs, subdued, waits for spring,
Hoping only that by next winter, she’ll be left with cover,
Maybe some new trees, like braids in her hair,
That can slow the wind, hold the snow, 
And keep her whole.
So that she can not only nourish everyone else
But start to rebuild herself.

Image may contain: sky, cloud, outdoor and nature

8 comments:

  1. Wow! Brilliant poem, sadly all too poignant and topical.

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  2. Awesome words, Sally! What an amazing image you have created. Thanks for sharing!

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  3. Stripped bare and abused. This is no way to treat your mother.

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  4. That really is lovely, Sally. Such feeling.

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  5. Thank-you for this Sally. Breaks my heart, but gives me hope as more and more islanders are realizing just how bad things have become. I have such hope for change in this next election.

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  6. very moving and tragic words Sally, and for some it's a rosy red sunset.

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