Monday, October 21, 2024

Die In This Strange Land

Die In This Strange Land
© Surazeus
2024 10 21

Wading in the constant river of dreams, 
formed by memories my ancestors compressed, 
I struggled against tide of history 
to retain integrity of my name 
constructed from debris of ancient deeds 
that design how my brain perceives the world. 

Displaced from land where my ancestors lived, 
I journey in bleak wilderness of hope 
to find lush paradise where no one lives, 
but every fertile valley I pass through 
is occupied by people long before, 
so I can die, or kill to claim land mine. 

I would prefer to live in harmony 
with strangers who welcome us with respect, 
then blend our families when our children marry 
so the next generation lives in peace, 
but someone always attacks us with hate 
to drive us from the land they claim is theirs. 

From Scythia to Scotland to Oregon 
the signless roads my ancestors once blazed 
across the waste land to find paradise 
are strewn with graves where their skeletons lie, 
forming structure of the Earth we dream, 
and their skulls sing to me in the dark rain. 

They ask me with bloody tears in their eyes 
where I will build strong castle of our clan 
to guard lives of descendants with our genes 
so with secure foundation of our faith 
our nation may dwell forever in peace, 
but their cries have grown faint across the years. 

To build paradise in the wilderness 
my ancestors, displaced from their homelands, 
invaded new lands on lush river shore 
and killed the people living there before, 
then named the land for father of our tribe 
who told us how our souls sprang from this land. 

No one ever lived in this fertile land 
before our fathers and mothers arrived, 
they tell us in the congregation hall, 
so we thank the Glow Cloud in the Blue Sky 
for giving us the right to live now here, 
yet I feel restless and wander nowhere. 

Born in some random land on Mother Earth, 
where my ancestors came from far away, 
I follow urgent passion of my heart 
to explore and map peoples of the world, 
then somewhere far from land where I was born 
I will lie down and die in this strange land. 


1 comment:

  1. Orpheus wanders far from Thrace in small towns of the Appalachian hills and plays grunge folk songs at smoky bars and church functions on Saturday nights.

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