Wednesday, September 3, 2008

The Old Homeplace


The remnants of the Old Burns Family Homeplace

The Old Homeplace

I remain.
A stoic representation of the past
Forged out of the wilderness
Delivered from nothingness to provide.

As generations came and went
the larder of abundance overflowed,
The symbiotic ties strengthened and bound us as one.

Though I kept you, and you me,
It was not enough to keep you here
When hard times knocked and a new way beckoned.

Now hopes and dreams have all gone away
Fallen by the wayside
Passed by on the way to progress.

Nothing left here of anyone
Who remembers the good life
In this Eden hewn out of the wild mountains.

Though I’m still here and I still remember,
My fields now lay fallow,
And I watch as the cedars reclaim my pastures.

I am but a memory,
Instilled in the flesh of my flesh.
With each passing season I slip back into nothingness.
Forgotten.

3 comments:

Shirley Stewart Burns, Ph.D. said...

Another lovely poem. You have turned into quite the poet!

Jason Burns said...

That's a funny way of saying, "Everyone fought over the family farm, but no one wanted it. They were just afraid one of the family would gain a moment's enjoyment out of the place."

Love you like family should, indeed.

tipper said...

Loved it! Gave me chills.