It was there. Sticking out like a sore thumb. An oasis of barrenness
in a field of life.
In a short distance, there was a contrast.
On one side, there were buildings. Buildings that housed
life and color.
On the other side, there was a vast and mighty ocean.
That
stretched out and eventually morphed into a grand deity.
Reminiscent of the Great War, there was a no man’s land. Barren.
Empty.
The sand was there, where no sides dared to cross.
No one told them that they couldn’t claim the land-it was an
unofficial rule that they wouldn’t.
The middle was like where civilization halted, where the
blue waters refused to touch.
No claims were made in the name of H2O, nothing.
It was like a fairy tale was real; this arrangement was
abrupt and unexpected.
The city was pushing to the vestige of its limits, yet
it didn’t want this territory. Nobody did.
There were no signs saying “Halt. Do not step on this land.”
Though one expected a park ranger to step out and tell you
to punish the first person
who was brazen enough to set a toe on this infamous plot of
land.
Would there be anyone who’d eventually dare do it?
To step foot on that hallowed, yet bare, land?
1 comment:
First off, this might be my favorite poem I have seen of yours yet. Why? I can't even name it really. The way you wrote this one was very poignant yet also quick and to the point. I really just appreciated the way you wrote this.
One phrase I kept reading over and over again--each time liking it more and more: An oasis of barrenness in a field of life.
What a great play on words!
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