New England
      These New England towns with their lying steeples,
      with their dishonest and cruel prayers,
      These towns with their false piety and sad anger
      released upon the land in their craven image

      This rocky ground which patiently waits
      the storm of misunderstanding and abuse to pass
      will live to be trod lightly upon once more,
      to be lived with in its peace and harshness

      These coasts inundated with exorbitant expenses
      these fragile shorelines that remember so well
      the tides will carry out their work
      and regain their forgotten place amidst - not us.

      These words, which cast so wide a net
      an assault on all those around me
      are not meant to condemn but to say
      we do not belong here, yet.

      6/29/00 - 3:00 AM

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© Huw Powell
printed 28 March 2024

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