In My Backyard
By Emilyn Inglis
I tell you what nobody wants in their backyard--
a natural disaster, that’s what.
Not in my backyard
Not in my town
Not in my most precious peaceful places,
green and rippling and heavenly.
I like to believe that when the leaves bud and blossom
the millions of scattered river rounded rocks
will roll back to their homes,
where they belong.
Maybe that’s what those rocks wish, too--
to return to the places they knew best,
where the water made its old familiar sound.
It’s not just rocks who’ve lost their homes.
Even those of us lucky enough to have returned
Find it irreconcilably different.
I feel an open wound, wanting so badly to
get everything back to normal and erase the damage.
How much more must those people
Unceremoniously peeled from their homes half a year go,
Wish to return to a taste of normalcy.
We can’t erase the flood.
We didn’t ask for change, but we got it.
I’ll tell you what I DO want in my backyard:
The peace of mind and heart that come from interdependence.
Helping people return home.
And knowing that when I’m down,
a whole town full of people won’t let me stay down.
YES in my backyard.