Old Roots New Dawns Poem by Alexander Downie

Old roots have dried and their hold is cracked in Turkish dust,
they pull back, offering only broken veins and parched skin.
The cling deep in the hard ground, thick, brittle and rotting,
a wanting sharp spade to sever a hangman’s hold, fated to break.

New roots grow fragile and slow, seeking soft ground to fallow,
lost in the damp dark, craving the warmth of every new dawn.
They hear the thickest thunder and welcome its constant coming,
a wanting seed, waiting to be safe and clean.