This is not a poem about how I feel about Oklahoma, it's a poem about how I felt about a very specific place at a very specific time. It is another one I wrote out of a writing prompt. I wanted to write about something else but this was therapeutic.
I have no roots here.
I know if the right wind blows
(and it threatens to every day,)
I will simply blow away.
The winds are relentless;
the clay is indifferent.
The insects have taken over.
Survival is based on luck;
this place is not designed for life.
The sky is too close, threatening to fall.
We have no Mount Olympus and the
invaders mock the gods.
The sun is too hot;
the rain is too scarce.
No one treats this land as holy.
The colors are matte
And what else would they be?
If everything is threatened here
what will protect me?
I took these pictures in 2009 in Oklahoma.
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