I miss our land.
It's been sold off since we left.
Cut up and severed, it makes me angry, no, I am bitter.
I miss the way the sun came through the trees, dew laden grass sparkling so bright, birds singing their melody. I miss our goats and sheep and cattle, I miss the rare running creek, I miss the ohia and koa, I miss the coquis and toads.
I miss everything, I miss it all.
But it's been so long, the memory has faded.
All that's left is a distinct feeling
Something I'm struggling to name.
It feels like a whisper, someone's breath against my neck.
Retreating and soon to be wiped from my psyche. It'll never be mine again.
I miss my land.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Journal for Wandering Feet
PoetryPoetry dedicated to where I come from. how I feel being away from home where I've been What I've lived. 🌺please leave me a vote if you like my poems🤙 Please don't post on my content trying to sell me something, send a private email, or asking me...
