It's been a while since I've written a poem. This one was in my heart a few days ago, so I jotted it down. I have not decided for sure on a title. If you have suggestions, let me know!
I grew up in the country
Learning to bail hay and plow.
And grow the food we ate
By the sweat of our brow.
I was taught honesty and prayer,
And turning the other cheek.
And rather than search for riches,
Forgiveness is what we seek.
I didn’t grow up glamorous
On that old country farm.
But, dreaming of those city lights
Seemed to do no harm.
With each passing summer day,
Picking purple peas for hours,
My attitude toward the country
Slowly started to sour.
I longed for the bright lights
And the fun the city brought.
Why grow your own food
When it can easily be bought?
So, the first chance I got
I moved out to the Big D.
Got a job in a high rise
And started a family.
I had babies and made a life
Different from the one I knew.
I had traded in the gardening
For a city’s hazy hue.
Now airplanes spray poisons
In the air we have to breathe.
We can’t drink the water
And the world is full of greed.
We might not make it out
Of this mess on Mother Earth.
People just don’t understand
The ramifications and her worth.
Now there’s protesting and clammering
And civil unrest.
When people say, “Land of the Free”,
I think, “Surely you jest!”
Everyone is prepping
Wondering how do we survive?
The end times are nearing
Or maybe it’s arrived.
Stores won’t have food soon,
The lights may go down.
What will people do
When no water is around?
Pieces of the puzzle
Are starting to fall into place.
I was born in the country,
I must leave this rat race.
All those years I wondered
Why was I born on that hill?
Thought I’d never want to pick up
Another fishing rod and reel.
As much as I hated that garden
And snapping peas til dark.
I’d trade it in a second
For this trashed out city park.
I’m running for the country
As fast as I can go.
And hope I can remember
What I didn’t want to know.
Hunting and gardening
Will likely save mankind.
And picking beans and okra-
Suddenly, I don’t mind.
For this tiny cabin
Down this long country road,
Is the most beautiful sight
By this garden that we’ve sowed.
Written by: Angie Blake July 2016.