They are building tower blocks
where we used to plant
vegetables for the family table.
Dragonflies vacate the tiny stream.
I have in mind to learn the Frisian language.
Family roots dig deeper than we realise,
they tap into the source of hidden memory
beneath the skin of who we think we are.
Concrete tower blocks, caves in space
where modern Hunter - Gatherers hunker down
after forays into asphalt jungles,
are merely metaphors for transience.
The bones of villages, of towns and cities,
rot beneath green fields in many places.
Farmers gathering rice - wheat - or barley,
chat in dialects of ancient lineage.
I have in mind to learn the Frisian language,
to staunch the wound between my past - my present. -
Today I watch developers trash the marshes
where we grew our spuds - our beans - our roses.
When a child I was not taught the names of flowers,
I told myself the dragonflies are birds.
If I can learn the words my forbears spoke
I may then touch the truth of who I am.
Our apple tree has been replaced by concrete.
Dragonflies vacate the tiny stream.
Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
18th. - 27th. - 28th. October 2020.
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