The Soil of Ancestors

Hands tilling soil
preparing seeds
planting dreams
in gardens north
and back again.

It’s hard for roots in
ash and sand
to dwell for long
or take a stand
Hands never yield
with ideas to be held.
A move here
a move there

so much to see.
A plot of land
no longer a simple dream.
Dirt under fingernails
in grooves in skin
life lines set deep in our palms
it’s the point
where all things meet.

This is a poem I am working on. It was inspired by Bjorn and the dVerse Soil Poetics prompt.

©2107 Delaina J Miller