Patriotic puppies
04 Friday Jul 2014
04 Friday Jul 2014
01 Tuesday Jul 2014
Posted Children, Memory, Poetry, Story poem, Writing
inTags
child, civilization, nature, neanderthal, poem, science fiction
I eat the food everyone eats:
lima beans, chocolate (mostly m&ms),
the occasional steak, and red delicious apples.
I dress myself in jeans and oversize t-shirts
(with names and logos I do not fathom).
I go to school because my mother tells me to.
And in my spare time I read difficult books.
You see, I have a lot of catching up to do.
With all this effort, I strive to be human
in the most human of ways.
A homo sapiens sapiens for the 21st century!
But often, late at night,
I have trouble following what I read
and I put the book down
and give in to the sounds all around:
like the rustling of a wolf family
as it stalks a rabbit in the undergrowth
or the fluttering of a solitary owl
as it descends upon the long branch of a tree.
Hoot, hoot it calls out in homage to the moon.
It is these sounds of paradise
that overtake me at times.
And then I know I will never be happy here.
I was designed for another time and place.
And I know that modern foods and science books
were never meant for me.
For I cannot ignore the hunger and pulse
of truly living things.