The reed you are

The reed stands
caught in a flight
halfway to freedom,
stranded in a swamp,
making the best of life.

Waiting in meanwhiles,
like you wait for returning
to the land you have left,
bending waves in all directions,
serf to the ruling wind.

Dreams of what lies beyond
make you whisper at nights,
rooting against all odds.
While the land means memory.
While the swamp slowly wins.

Comments on: "The reed you are" (9)

  1. I came back as I was curious to read your poetry. I really enjoyed this one. I think the swamp and the memories usually win. Pulling out the roots is a very hard thing to do as I have experienced but I did flew to freedom to beautiful country NZ

  2. I love it! especially the opening;
    ‘The reed stands
    caught in a flight
    halfway to freedom …

    XO

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