Sep 30, 2014
By L.S. Heatherly
How long this trace of road has wandered,
Dying, now, from lack of human reasons,
From sieges of growth, burrowings and seasons,
Is what the human mind first ponders.
And what became of the dream abandoned,
That rebelled, and took this path to somewhere,
Hoping for no trace of someone else having been,
For chance at grasping deeper self now here remanded?
And how long this dreamer's dream:
The resprouting of a life and soul?
How much of one being's lost ground retaken?
Is what the heart would have the mind could know.
from CH XI, Think Verse, Soul Lines, Ecopoetry
in THE LAST HUMAN SPRING
Copyright 2002 and 2009 L.S. Heatherly