We have built a fence and gate
to keep animals in, people out.
I think about water that once flowed
through the dried-up creek bed,
and the tree that stands a century old,
sentinel perch for generations of ravens,
and the hubris of thinking it “ours.”
If I could keep it wild
I’d have my ashes spread in the holler
beside the horse we buried,
in view of the pasture and mountains.
Once we’re gone from this place
it will likely be sliced into parcels
like servings of cake.
Wild red currants in secret clumps
in the shade of downed trees will be stripped and
the pasture carved into a “subdivision” with
new fences and gates.
Then I will rise to ride the bones
of the old horse up the creek bed,
thirsty for the water that once
ran clear and free.
I love this poem and its sentiment. Only a person that is one with nature could’ve written this. Also, a horse lover perhaps?
In the midst of the present, we face our prescient knowledge. We are mourning the future. Can our expressions of grief change the outcome?
So moving. So much emotion Wonderful
Bitter/sweet…trying to keep the memories…
This made my heart swell and then tears expressed the joy and sorrow. Thank you Kaylene
Your words speak to the soul. The truth is bitter sweet. Beautiful ….
Change is a constant. That does not mean I have to like it.
Haunting, beautifully detailed. Reminds me of Pearl Buck’s The Good Earth. We have seen this happen, and it hurts.