On Archeology(Blackberry Man) Poem by Dickson Wasake

The finest always goes with the dead,
and we the grateful undead,
now dig through these bones and treasure,
with hammer and basket we probe,
seeking for glimpses into their long gone souls,
or perhaps to catch whiffs of their rose scented dreams.

Can a man's hopes be interred with his bones?
Shall archeologists 900 years henceforth,
on discovery of this man and blackberry,
understand that this was our lighthouse?
beaming rays of mail and voice day in day out,
light rays of this our oft lonely existence,
in this raging sea storm of rocky island life?
Or shall they proudly announce on discovery of 'blackberry man, '
'of another finding of historic 21st century man,
and his numbered square box;
most likely a day and time counting machine' they will excitedly claim,
'to differentiate hours and seasons,
during their endless wintry solistices,
and darkness at noon skies,
when their oil needs,
killed off their green lands.'