The following poem evolved in my head over a couple of days before I put pen to paper. I had been thinking about a salt mine in Poland I had visited years ago and how we humans create holes in the ground.
Salt
They found it where he said they would,
a day’s digging in the field, dirty brown crystals.
It was, he maintained, proof that some time before
there had been an ocean above our heads.
To begin, with it was whispered, he had placed it there himself
but as the seam expanded
and gave up pound after pounds worth of profit
they accepted it was natural
though none would go as far as to agree
this land had once been the sea bed.
He claimed we limit ourselves
settle for the least we can.
In the spring he left for who knows where.
The men were indifferent,
content to hollow the earth for coin.
I have to thank Nel for taking the time to discuss this poem and for making a number of excellent suggestions. I actually think this one is complete.
Toumani Djabati died recently and is missed greatly. I first saw him back in the 80s and have loved his music ever since.
Until next time.
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