Monday, September 03, 2018

Poem a Day I

(This series will be weekdays only.)

Heritage

A tree without roots is overturned by the wind,
unable to battle the storms that descend;
and how, and how can you hold your head high
when your past is nothing but shadows that die?

The building is lost when the ground gives away,
when the base that has crumbled the rest will betray,
and how, and how can you hold your head high
not even remembering the tears that were cried?

When the grain is not stored, the seed will be lost,
no spring will be sown, with harvest its cost;
and how, and how can you hold your head high
with no food for the children save the breezes that sigh?

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