A poem has been introduced to me today which I would like to share with you.
The context in which it was given is not important, rather the sentiment behind the words and the feelings that they induce in the reader.
It is by Kenneth Steven, a contemporary Scottish Poet and Author.
Remembering the Amish of Alma, Michigan
And I have seen them coming home on summer nights
Or bent above the wash bowl in the kitchen
Haloed in the window by the low sun's leaving;
Soft voices in the fields of gentle men with horses.
And in the town they walk their own way,
As though a reverence for what lies beneath their feet
Is in their shoes, and in their eyes a peace
No man can buy and few have ever found.
And sometimes when I meet them I feel like him who went away
With all of his father's wealth and lived in laughter far away
And woke one day to find he'd nothing left.
I feel like turning just like him for home -
That I may also start again.
No comments:
Post a Comment