MOOSOMIN - Poem

MOOSOMIN

Somewhere to the East
The grain cathedrals
Will be replaced by
The spiritual ones.

The life of the land
Will become the life
Of the mind, the life
of a heart no longer soil.

Meanwhile, the train tracks
Vein their way outward,
The only rise on a flatness
that is emptier than death.

People work hard here,
Rushing to beat the cold
And the enveloping dark.
We are just passing through.

But here we are though
With the first flutter, blip,
The early warning light.
Fate is calling it quits.

Yet we will push on
Until we no longer can,
And the Rest Stop
Becomes permanent.

Like a meteor in the sky
We will continue to arc
Toward the East, where
Pieces fall mutely, to earth.


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