Creative fun in
the palm of your hand.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2182390-People-Of-The-Blessed-Land
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: ASR · Poetry · Environment · #2182390
A poem on human touch on mother nature and its degradation..
The blessed people lived in a bountiful land, a fish-shaped land hallowed by the sea

and generous peaks, with plentiful rivers, a treasure of green and rain, blissful rain!

Half of the people owed it to grace of god while the rest trusted in the power of people to creatively manage,

So strength and blessed they felt they all agreed it as a land of gods;

So blessed they grew rich and happy and marched onward but forgot their blessing.

The sea frowned at them and sent forth her clouds,

it rained and they walked in it to wash away their sweat;

it rained again steadily now, and they brought out their umbrellas;

it rained again with furrowed brow this time, they smiled and went on with their lives;

it rained again harder this time, they smiled and splashed to work;

it rained again with purpose now, they laughed and raced boats in the streets;

they laughed and still did not remember.

They laughed and said, we have tamed the rivers

and walled them in, we have tamed the forests

and our gods live in the hills, we have tamed the land

and our crops are gold, we have bridges and boats

and our homes are brick and mortar; the sea is our mother,

she will swallow anything we throw out and

you throw at us, and they laughed and went back to work.

The rain hounded her allies and went to her mountains

where their first-born river and forest grow, she called and they came;

It rained then, it rained and rained from the sea to the mountains;

Thunder lent the rivers his hammer the mountains gave them his might

the clouds became their darkness and the sea filled them with her rage;

Down came the rivers, the forests parted to

let them pass and then trampled their roads;

Down came the rivers, red and rocky with rage

drowning their shrines, burying their green;

Down came the rivers smashing the walls that hemmed them in

bursting the banks that they chose to keep cutting through their paper houses

and stacks of silly towns; It rained and rained till the once blessed people

called upon the sea, But she only howled, swollen with fury and blew them a swirling gust;

It rained and rained till each mountain was an island

till each city was mud till their bridges swam

till their boats climbed trees till they were wet to their bones

till they no longer laughed till they fell to their knees

and remembered that they once were blessed;

and the sea said, it's time to learn the excitement

to walk in the rain again.

39 lines
© Copyright 2019 sindbad (sindbad at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2182390-People-Of-The-Blessed-Land