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Brigham

by Leonard M Hawkes

The place, I know:
Mountains, streets, houses, trees,
And all of it tangled with memories.
But the people have strayed—
Many gone out into the world—
But most, no doubt, misplaced,
Or simply grown old.

It’s strange how we can sometimes parallel:
Live our lives even side by side,
Not knowing or recognizing
Those links that could or should
Be the foundation of our greatest reality.

And what is the meaning of home now—
Forty years away and with children and grandchildren
Who have no concept of that traditional Truth
That was and is the skeleton of my own humanity?
Yes, five, or is it even seven generations deep now
In this gravel soil and the irrigated, ancestral peaches?
Surely it’s a certainty shaken,
But too, an enduring song of the heart.

09/09/2017

Author's Note: Peach Day Poem 2017

Posted on 09/10/2017
Copyright © 2017 Leonard M Hawkes

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