PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I rest neath the Earth and salute the eclipsing flesh,

Once I was raised above these muddy grounds.

The bleak path I will take will foresee the consequence of my thresh.

But my future is brighter than it sounds.

Now I wait for the sky’s mourning.

It will be here soon, the clouds ponder on the horizon.

Anticipation stirs for my new body forming,

To await the return of the hand that I will beckon.

Hope grows fast, but my leaves grow faster.

Soon they will find a use for me.

I dwell in the nutrients gifted by my loving master.

I will soon be that gift for others to see.

Tonight I rest but there is turbulence within the fields;

These steps are unfamiliar as are the guests that fall around us.

Silently I ponder as to what these guests yield…

I expect these visitors not to be a fuss.

How wrong I was…

They claw at our growth and scour our obedience,

Clambering at the Earth or at what the Earth once was.

Devouring our gifts, like a wild back street recipience.

I cannot comprehend the recent events,

But I know I still stand.

Lurking on the intruders and what they may prevent,

As I wait for the return of the saving hand.

Many cycles have led me to this hour,

I survived the attempted slaughter.

I brushed away their power,

Now rising as the skin grasps tighter.

I knew it…I trusted in my master’s plan.

I’m separated from my nightmare.

He coordinated the rescue, the one which he ran.

Suddenly our numbers are not so rare.