About Us Who Remained Here.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

when first thrown away
they call it
seed,

there are rocky fields
where most of the seeds
struggle for soil
& water
to grow
buds and mature as
branches

or be successful trees
into forests,

so many have found themselves
as utter failures
in the form of sand

so many are dead, wilting even
before
leafing

there are others who evolve well
despite the harsh conditions

lucky for those who imagine wings
and turn into birds
of freedom

but others do not have that fate
the stars are against them

you have seen now
so many pebbles scattered on those
twisted paths

others of course have turned themselves
into stones
the mostly preferred state of being
strong
or mistaken to be stoic

into rocky formations ready to be
fields of cradles again for
those that come recently and
baptized with the same name
seed.

we who remain here
have learned to write about all these
sad phenomena

we have fortified ourselves as slates of rocks
with rain as pens.