On a cane ash

So special and fragile-
The cane ash blown,
Cut, splintered by
An invisible wind,
Indivisible to the senses.
Ash I may crush to a powder
Black, staining a palm,
And yet lie no stronger
Than this passing swiftness of a breeze,
Maybe though, crueler,
I the human oppressor,
Of simpler, so far untouched
Gentle nature.




Poetry by vidura rambachan
Read 167 times
Written on 2019-03-16 at 23:44

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josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Burning cane fields and itís ash and embers carried in the wind at night. Your poem so vividly reminded me of this. And of how inadvertently we do damage by something as delicate as an airborne piece of charred cane ash. Well written and well thought out.
2019-03-17


Thomas DeFreitas The PoetBay support member heart!
Such a vivid image, beautifully described!
2019-03-17