I OWN NOTHING

I have felt differently

about this little residential plot 

I used to think I owned

with it’s backyard to garden in

and land taxes to pay on.

But ever since I found

an arrowhead deep in red clay

with it’s edges still sharp,

I know I own nothing.

I wish I could give it back

to the Cherokees, or

whichever tribe was here,

but all I could do was write

a plaintive piano solo

called Trail of Tears . . .

(excerpt of Trail of Tears)


and try to remember

to never take anything

for granted.

~ ~ ~