Sycamore

A poem for change and living as one people of the Earth.

In the fresh green space after the rain has fallen, I stand and gaze over the scape,

Under the dripping branches, through the humid air lie the empty cans of waste,

I think about the times gone by, with all that has happened and wonder

if I too am what has been discarded;

Am I what has been consumed and tossed away in shameless neglect?

Lord knows that in my time I have stood in selfish, shallow places, thinking only of myself; fallen from every loved ones graces,

And I have paid a heavy price in my existence, locked away, trapped in my own pain, rehabilitated only to do the same again,

Like the can observing all that travels by, with eyes of experience and loneliness, I stand on this sidewalk begging for my next meal.

Not food, nor money do I want, but connection to the whole;

the mysterious silence within us all, surrounding us, above us, below and within,

Oh! To only be as one;

nations, people, families, government, and religion,

Let us pick up all the empty cans, take back the earth and the promise lands,the oceans and the forests, the desert and the mountain, the cities and the farms,

Put down the arms of aggression and the differences of opinion, stop building all our fences; masks of hidden agendas, accept each other to live and be free to express individual godliness, calling forth a new idea of human existence.

This is what a pray, standing on the corner every day, watching a world pass me by like I am just an empty can, laying in the dirt underneath a sycamore.

Author's Note

Reviews

[AaronFreitas]

That is a very good write my friend. This world is our home and I wish people would take care of it so much better than we do. Good job :)

[Double T]

This poem is great-fully packed with a message hidden inside of it.

[modtoddinc]

Thank you for reading my poem.