A man is pitched through the door
by blasts from steppes.
Scrub and cactus land,
Earth’s belly has been ripped open,
giving birth to grit and death.
Gloom is ushered in by a maelstrom of dust.
Tumbleweed scratches at windows,
spidery skeletons seeking shelter
from relentless wind.
Our orchard, clothed in pale shrouds,
gashed trees lean on sheds and plough.
Earth’s face is prematurely wrinkled, dry.
Trampled on for centuries by cloven hooves of alien herds.
She’s powder, an earthen pyre, raped by human forces
devouring rich layers of fertility. Not a drop of rain in eons;
on this devastation lie the dying... lies all hope.
My husband's face is seared with dust,
eyelids heavy with gray desperation.
Sweat has succumbed to an earthy mask,
dry runnels on his cheeks, scarred hole of his mouth.
No man ever gained over December’s wind.
He drops his clothes in a heap,
opens his arms to my cool body,
presses me tight to his patient heart.
Uncanny silence,
a sickle moon knives Patagonian skies,
overlooking centennial shadows
cast in sword and catastrophe.
Comments
I see here...
a day in the life of a farmer of a failing farm. Such emotion is hard to fake. I know that you must have seen this and I feel almost ashamed to have such a wealth of good land to have a garden and grow whatever I want. My favorite lines:
"My husband's face is seared with dust,
eyelids heavy with gray desperation.
Sweat has succumbed to an earthy mask,
dry runnels on his cheeks, scarred hole of his mouth."
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It clearly shows the desperate attempt to wrest a living from a land that is not cooperating. Nice work, ! ~ Geezer.
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Gracy
It took a couple of reads to get the full affect of this poem. After doing so I found something flawless and full of descriptive lines
well done
Hi Geez, fortunately that's
Hi Geez, fortunately that's about an estancia/ranch that my Dad administrated. We used to go by earth road there about once a month. The sheep that colonizers had brought about 3 centuries before have ruined the land with their cloven hooves. Autoctonous animals, such as the guanaco, a camiladae with padded feet, do not raze the earth. There was an orchard on the estancia, that's part of what I say in my poem.
Rather it's humankind that doesn't cooperate, don't you think?
We lived on a lovely farm in an irrigated valley, much as you describe yours. Glad you appreciate my poem.
lynn, thanks for your
lynn, thanks for your comments. I know, I tend to make things difficult. I've been criticized for that. Glad you understood it. I've answered Geez above, if you wish for more explanations. Glad you appreciate it. Best!
this is
beautiful and touching
I can relate to it
lost so much in my life
None can help it
so silly folks call it destiny
man's unknown creation
what agony!