long the plantings of the fallow field
when once they take root, find full vigor.
long the nearness of work, and close the far visions of grandeur
and too, I long for the end of the season, for the greening, for the bearing of fruit.
but remember, remember, I must -
that these winters long waited to pile on
deaths, frosts, and chill rains to give life.
and slowly, slowly at first, do the threads and webs of other sprouting things spread.
the destroyers, great recyclers, the powers that lie in death.
which burst up from below to spread, to dissolve & consume, and to, in time, renew.
and so I plant and wait for the turning of the season,
I plant and wait, with the nearness of work, the far vision of harvest.
I long, and wait, and work, as in winter, onward to the greening of spring.
I long await the greening plants of the once-fallow field
when soon, our art takes root, consumes, and brings us to -
when soon, we may take root, dissolve, and renew.
#poetryOfResistance #poetry