I found this poem on my daughter’s Facebook page, she’s forever writing poems. I told her I was going to blog it and along with a thumbs up she told me my painting that I did several years ago is what inspired her poem. I find that thrilling! What a wonderful process of artists encouraging writers encouraging singers and musicians and dancers and so on to an eternity of beauty making!
they mean the world to me. Every turn leads to new surprises, not ever knowing what four-legged beast waits around the bend.
You’ll stare in reverence at the lone majestic tree in the sea of rustling reeds.
It stands tall, grey, proud, refusing to relinquish its roots to the mother.
Branches reaching towards the sun as if in worship. The reeds join in its prayers to the mother.
Whispers of adoration and trepidation are taken by the wind carried beyond sight and sound to the mother of life.
You will pass rusted unhinged gates that once held the livestock in but, now just keep wanders away
from the twisted thorned vines that have claimed the land, as a gift from the mother.
Down these old country roads you find the kindest people. You may say, they are simple.
However, They have depth to their character lacking in your city folk. Here they know what it is to toil . Here they know their role.
Here the people know the Mother, as do the reeds and the proud old grey.
Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival. (C. S. Lewis)