hands raw from work

dedicated to writing their future

carving a space for tomorrow

to stand with rusted teaspoons

in a land of bulldozers

tenderly caressing the

unborn future seeding

it with possible in winters

that refuse to end assuring

spring will come walking in

faith because faith grows inside

even when nothing else will

expecting needing wanting

the future to remember

the wind at its back

wanting it to go forward

willing to stand still

fighting so that it can

sacrificing bleeding not

breaking refusing to be bowed

upright standing on the promise

culled from the graveyard

remembering to remember

hoping the future never

forgets does not become lost in

the dumpsite of materialism

fall under buses going in the

wrong direction to the wrong

places filled with the wrong people

having the wrong conversations

babbling on about

things that do not matter

will not feed  or free us trapped

in boardrooms at crossroads

when its time to weigh the

wheat from the chafe where

the path disappears behind the

bulldozers remember to honor the

promise of the ground on which you stand

go forward in honor of the

moment the horses became

food and  hands raw from

work  took up teaspoons

to open the road

to clear your path

ensuring your right

to clear the ground

on which tomorrow stands