Colin F. Jones
Awarded: January 14, 2009I am Australian by Acculturation
I belong to its laws and ways,
Yet sometimes to adulteration,
My deeper thought strays.
I am neither black nor white,
Often lost and not found;
Each eye with unique sight,
Probe a darkness profound.
Silence is my still shadow,
Trampled under a multitude of feet,
In a lost golden meadow,
Beginning at the end of the street…
Wherefrom my transplanted self
Lies alone and incomplete.
I come not from where my home is,
Where confused behind the door,
I wonder where my soul is,
For who I am I’m not sure.
My seed grew beyond the oceans,
In an old and ancient land,
Now it has bloomed here with devotion,
To Australia fine and grand.
But the passage was a harsh one,
A transplanted seed is hard to grow,
Though every battle faced I’ve won,
I’m not the man I used to know,
For life has taken from me,
The boat I used to row.
©Copyright January 12, 2009 by Colin F. Jones
This poem prompted the response, “Colin!” ©Copyright January 12, 2009 by Sheila Williams ~ Singing Cloud