Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

I grew up in quiet college towns,
my schoolmates farm kids, children of professors,
occasional minorities. I learned to drive
on unintimidating country roads, through waves
of gold and green to other wider seas.
Fifty years later, the wanderer returns
to find the center hard, unwelcoming. I stand
on foreign territory; narrow roads throw dust
in strangers’ eyes, the limestone fenceposts guard
dry fields which once had room enough for all.

— Sue Peters


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

Tag Cloud