On your bare feet.
Lie on your back
So the sun can bathe you
While you listen
To the birds
Singing eternity’s song
And watch determined squirrels
Planting tomorrow’s
Oak forests.
Let the breeze
Gently stroke your skin,
Massaging away your worries,
Calming your soul.
Take armfuls of leaves
From the forest’s floor;
Let them waft and flutter.
The smell of rich promise
Of fertile soil
Filling you with lightness;
Rising you up
Like a helium balloon,
Drawing you out of the
Noxious, polluted toxicity
Of the quagmire
Of human violence and hatred.
The maelstrom of human odium,
That fills the daily news;
Swirling suppurating,
Cadaverous carnage,
Dragging you down.
Till you, too
Are kicking and tearing,
Spitting in the face
Of tomorrow.
No, we cannot let it be.
No putrescent dawn
Shall steal all hope from us,
If only we will look
And feel
And find the beauty.
READ OTHER POEMS BY SHARON STANSFIELD
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