Poetry Marathon poem #2

I sift through
the passing times
finding broken glass
in piles among the sand
musing character
and what can be done
with two hands
and hard work
build something
put it to use
make the new
from years of abuse
physical mental
emotional warfare
yearning for a chance
to prove I care
flying, failing, flailing through
doing whatever it is I must do
The drawings scattered
in old notebooks
foretell the future
of bubbling brooks
and trees not paper
nature’s progress
humanity advances
to regress
old problems never solved
just put to the back of the mind
hoping the answer will come with time
but not the attitude
however
dystopian calls
are always crude.

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