Barren Land Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Barren Land
The barren land
it was to produce
but produced not
we
came early this morning
to see
at least
some of the seeds sowed
sprouting
no, no,
you waste your time
my Monsignor to come
here on this bleak rock,
solitary
in solitude
that soon
and too
will crack and go
under the utter hand
of sheer extinction.
Sunday, February 22, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: landscape
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4/23/2024 8:35:23 AM # 1.0.0.1119
