Exile, Self-selected -
Honorable Mention (short form), 2008 Poetry Contest
Daniel Ausema
Poetry
Fantasy
I chose this.
When rains dried in my village
I grew feathered wings,
came across the chasm to
cloud fields of magic herbs.
I fan the farmers' plants with my wings,
sing seedlings into potency.
They pay me in rain.
The cloud farmers do not look
me in the eye. I
am necessary, but crass.
My wings, my feathers, my sweat and song
grow their riches.
This makes me no more a person
than the clouds, the sun, the fertilizing manure.
I take their pay, wave my wing, and it disappears.
Somewhere,
in my village or a garden plot in a
nearby town, an extra bit of rain falls,
wets the ground's dry lips.
My choice, as I said, yet
when I finish work, when I
hide from those who wish me forgotten,
I look down that chasm,
imagine dusty yards and rag-wrapped children,
remember tastes that don't translate,
words I left behind.
I long for those days and days of no rain.
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Copyright 2008, Daniel Ausema. All rights reserved. Daniel Ausema has a background in experiential education and journalism and is now a stay-at-home dad. His fiction and poetry have appeared in dozens of publications, including Nemonymous, Raven Electrick, Fictitious Force, and Reflection's Edge as well as several DEP publications. He lives in Colorado.
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