I can hear the roots tear
Across the breast of resting soil
Like blind fingers, stretching the
Depths of darkness,
Those long forgotten by time
For the hours; they fly only above the ground
The black womb is all silence
And frozen thoughts:
Except those murmurs of memories
Left by faded footsteps
And shadows parched under the sun
Of people who could not turn, away.
I hear them too, their thoughts,
In the leaves yawning with the wind
And fruits falling with the same
It’s bittersweet syrup; tears and sweat of toil gone unremembered
A destiny dismembered
Like roots they yearn no reason
Nor do they desire
The crystal sunlight reserved for carving men
All that is needed for the flower to bloom
And the fruit to bubble without bursting
Is this truth soaked with pain
That they stand alive and upright
On the shoulders of hanging men
Evocative and stirring, like ghosts. “Nor do they desire
The crystal sunlight reserved for carving men” and the one about the forgotten ones parched by the sun because they didn’t turn away, yawning with the wind… So many haunting lines in keeping with the season.
Thank you very much… Truly humbled by your thoughtful response 😊…. And yes the poem is about ghosts, more specifically about our so many nameless forefathers …. Glad you like it🙏
So beautiful lines so emotional ! Thank you for sharing 👍🙂💓
Thank you very much for all the appreciation. So glad you liked it. 😊🙏
My pleasure ☺🌹stay happy and blessed forever.☺🌹💓
A wonderful poem full of great images! I love the opening lines of roots tearing the soil…
And this line is perfect… A destiny dismembered…
Dwight
Thank you very much Dwight for all your compliments 😊… Truly glad you liked it 🙏🙏🙏
Yes, I did… and you are very welcome!