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I came from cold Sweden
To cold New England
To farm this glacier-littered soil
For each seedling I plant
I must extract a stone from the ground
I'll add the stone to this elf-wall
What matter if the walls never meet?
Only fairies will dance them
Dogs nor horses they'll not keep in—
I use no mortar
Nothing holds my family together
We deserted kin and friends
What place we had, we left
We came to this land
Where we sleep over strangers' ancestors' bones
This land of extinguished futures
Did we come because we had hope
Or because we had no hope?
We know enough English now
To know they call us longheads
How surprised they were to discover
We were not idiots
This nation wet-nursed me
With stale milk
I am grateful not to go hungry
I know well whose backs are broken
To build railroads, mine coal
When I tire of farming rocks
The quiet woods will grow back
My meager progeny will scatter
You will see no more trace of
Me than these stone walls
copyright 2005
Aire Celeste
Norell |
