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