Jonathan Mackenzie

Return to Eden

The trees don’t seem as tall
As I recall from childhood days
Though memory takes its toll;
  Still the river flows
  Onwards, expanding

It’s here we learned to fall,
In spite of all the lumps and bumps
No teardrops ever fell;
  All that flowed was joy
  As constant as the river

No cows in the meadow mooch
No flies in the buttermilk buzz
Perhaps there was foot and mouth?
  Still the river flows
  In waves of uncertainty

The farm-house is a ruin,
A tomb of memories like the barn
That was Narnia in the rain;
  But life goes on -
  Just like the river


I’m just another pebble on the beach
That wants to shine and stand out from the crowd.
Instead, I’m stepped upon and kicked around,
And hopes, once cherished, linger out of reach.

Decaying driftwood scattered on the shore
Is wreckage from my ship of childhood dreams
That foundered in a shallow sea of green
To splinter in my every bitter pore.

Dilapidated shells, like unkempt graves
Are weather-beaten victims and the scarred
And disenfranchised debris from a herd
Too weak to dare oppose oppressive waves.

And yet we have the power to impeach
The tyrants who conspire to implement
Privation. Tell me who they represent?
Aren’t most of us just pebbles on the beach?

Jonathan Mackenzie © 2009