There Used to Be
There used to be a woods so high and thick
that where I sit was high in a tree.
The water and islands I see would be
hidden by the Douglas Fir next to me.
Squirrels scurried around the
ground and hurried up the trees
for reasons unknown to me.
There was a time
when time was lost.
Can it be it’s not what
it’s purported to be?
A gigantic boulder rolled
here by a wave of ice
twelve thousand years ago
looks pretty much the same
as it did a hundred years ago.
Why do I think my life
is so important?
After all, this life is just a
snapshot in an old polaroid
that is faded to yellow.
I’m giving a lot more importance
to what I do than it really deserves.
And while the bigger me thinks of
changing and improving the world.
I should know who I really am.
An ant in a colony of ants that is moving sand
because that’s what I’m programmed to do.
Try as I will it’s hard to understand
that the grain of sand I shoulder around
is just what it is and the only thing
I can really change is me.
I like both the content & the way you weave unexpected rhymes through the tapestry of the poem. Like the water and the islands hidden by the Douglas fir, and how each of us — through the experience of the narrator — is brought to face our relative unimportance in the scheme of things. Lovely.
Thanks for your thoughtful comments!
Harvey