In the Land
Beneath my feet
is the only land I own
and that feels as true
as the handle of a good hammer
or my favorite pen.
Why is it, then, that
my tongue is bitter
dust and something does
not thread smoothly,
when i hear my neighbor's grief?
This morning, I heard children
sing "This land is your land
this land is my land..."
and I began to cry
was sputtering,choking.
My eyes were blizzard blind
salt flooded, my breath betrayed
my classroom whiteboard, unwilling and blank
old glory in the corner, hanging from the wall
making me feel alone.
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.
