Wound Furrow

Dear Reader:

We're often told: support those who serve.

I say: we all serve.


WOUND FURROW

On my long trek home from war
I stopped to watch a farmer turn
an old meadow into a fresh field

but when I saw how
the plow blade broke the earth open
I felt my raging shame once more--

once more felt
the sharp wound of defeat--
a cut I'd tried so hard to ignore

but as the child
followed with handfuls of seed
I realized
such destruction creates furrows--

as the wise one said
old life must be torn
so new life can be born

but oh
I did not want to labor!
no--
I wanted to laze:

war had tested my strength
thus, in the aftermath
I felt quite weak

however

I'd already learned
from such conflict
that if I didn't fight my inertia
I'd suffer an even worse defeat.

© 2017, Michael R. Patton
what I learned while alone: poetry ebook