I Am in a Foreign Land
Here we stand
The two of us
Two tribes come together
I am the last of my kind
Older
Wiser
Kneaded like fresh dough
For biscuits in the morning
Each day a good beginning
The sun slowly rises
A beautiful pink to orange glow
Great expectations
Life has humbled me
Taken me to task
Spit me out
To try again
What a bitter pill I must be
An old woman
I croon to myself
A song I used to sing to my son
Years have passed
I solid as a stone
And yet life
Has marked me
Left its hand print on my shoulder
The same as in the cave
Red the color of life
Each new day I am amazed
I walk the labyrinth of life
Go within
Weigh and measure
Often it is as if, I am in a foreign land
November 15, 2018
5 comments:
It's beautiful, Annell, writing about your journey through life. Too often, we view this journey, as negative, to be reviled and not talked/written about. Many time, I find myself, dreading to get out of bed and face the world. Just one day, I would like to face it with a smile, knowing nothing can stop me.
Nice line: "I am the last of my kind" especially with reference to being a tribe and being lost in a foreign land in the last stanza.
This is a wonderful write Annell, much depth. There is a bittersweetness, but also a quiet strength... :-)
I just discovered that you used to post your work on a poetry prompt site I published for a number of years entitled "Writer's Island", so nice to see your work agsin... :-)
This resonates.
Oh, I feel this poem! The memories....how life has marked us.......forced us to become ever more of ourselves. A write that truly resonates for me right now. I do feel sometimes I am in a foreign land, so far have we come from the simpler times of our youth, when decency and doing the right thing was the norm. Sigh.
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