Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance.
~Ruth E. Renkel
photo by: me 5/18/2008
she sits demurely
on the first rise of the ridge,
surrounded on all sides
by the modern day
equivalent of beauty..
in silence,, she watches
as they adorn themselves
in strings of pearl white light,
exuding the electrical exuberance
of life,, as it courses thru their veins..
they flash glassy toothed smiles
from behind their freshly painted lips
and dangle their million dollar birthrights,
like golden charms
around the unlined throats
of their youth…
she sits demurely
on the first rise of the ridge,
long past the vigor of her youth-
draped,, as she is
in natures own finery
lit only by the slender rays
of the at best,, beguiling
morning sun.. yet
knowing all the while
that they share with her
their only true inheritance..
that of rotting flesh and rusting bone
and the eventual return
to the womb of mother nature
that which has rightfully been hers,,
all along….
authors side note: i took this piece and printied it (photo and all) and thumbtacked it to the structure in the photo, a bit of guerrilla poetry, if you will.. don’t know if it will be read or in the case that it is, be understood… but i just felt it was the right thing to do…. if anything comes of it,, i will let you know….
for cafe writing
