Heartlands of Darkness

The most precious thing that the ships brought home
Wasn't gold or silver. It wasn't food or an army
Of men in clanking chains. It was knowledge that
Everything wasn't the same, the Pope proven fallible,
Other gods. It was doubt, and, with it, the sense
That all that was said to be permanent could be
Changed, and the source of the inland's enduring
Poverty isn't its soil, its lack of rain. It's
The fact that the ships and their cargoes don't
Come. There is no doubt. There is only one god,
And everything stays the same.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 58 times
Written on 2010-05-31 at 11:41

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