Come and see the bones of my heart
My ancient land,
I am here to see if you will but look,
The beauty and the colors,
The mud, dust and rock,
Ancient trees, soft moss.
Come and see the bones of my heart
But I can not lead you to this land of mine,
you must first come and find yourself,
You must find your heart and ancient soul,
Before you can discover mine.
Come and see the bones of my heart
Earth created before dreams were made,
Waves shaped sand and turned to rock,
Rocks formed before time began,
Trees that were saplings before your forefathers were yet born.
Come and see the bones of my heart
Find peace and joy and wonder,
See your image reflected in mine,
As mine is reflected in you,
And recognize your heart as a part of my ancient land.
Martin Derksema
Beautiful poem, Janice. I love your line of thought. And I love the respect in this poem for the land we are alowed to use (and not to abuse).