The Land Of My Birth Poem by Skylark Woodrow

The Land Of My Birth



The Forest, and all that is within its boundaries;
All the plants and animals,
Every light and shadow,
This is the land of my birth.
Birth not in the body,
But in the spirit.
Since the beginning of the ages,
Before even the fabric of time.
This is where I belong.

I can hear the Forest whisper my name,
Not in any human tongue,
But in a language all its own.
I can hear it within the wind as it races over the earth,
I can hear it in the babbling of the brook.
I can hear it as the gentle rain kisses the land,
And while the storm rages on in agony at my absence.

Sometimes it is not even these things that tell me,
But a gentle flutter of yearning within my very being.
There is no way to deny it,
There is no way I couldn't know that this is where I belong.
The Forest is my home,
The land of my birth.

(2014.5.1)

Friday, December 7, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: forest,heart song,home,homesick,homesickness,nature,trees
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