Go Back, I
At your very birth,
before your fanciful embellishments,
they not only gazed, but breathed into you
and meant and did you no harm.
You were so pure and they were so true.
Guarding you, guiding you, teaching you,
knowing quite well what you were,
but perhaps not what you would be;
they wished you and were what you wished,
and you could go, do, be as you pleased,
take all and only what was good and enough,
you needed no more than to reach
and they would reach for you
and back to you
and meet you, grasping, halfway.
But you hurled them to the ground.
And horse-drawn chariots and carriages
conveying warmongers and kings and queens,
and decrepit carts stuttering wearily
behind wearily stuttering flea-bitten mules,
trampled and rolled over them roughshod.
You stood among them, broken, shattered,
scattered about your feet.
Those broken pieces wept.
26th March 2005
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
