DIGGING THE EARTH

DIGGING THE EARTH

I am digging the good earth, a holy place for me to lay
At the end of my life’s long journey when the curtain falls on my little play.

I am digging in the dirt and the smooth red clay,
Where at last I will rest at the end of this highway.

I am digging the earth and its magical moments
That fly in the face of the trouble I’ve known.

The sweet friends who love me, my cherished companion,
This swell sacred planet that I think of as home.

I am digging the earth like a mad undertaker
Who sleeps on the job and who dances on graves,
And I want to burn brightly and soar o’er the mountains,
Giving light to the world, a sweet, lovely blaze,
Like a coda to the sunset, a shiny lemon glaze.

I am digging the earth and where once I saw sorrow
That burned in my eyes like a motherless child,
Now I see goodness and kindness and mercy,
That stretch out before me, softening the miles.

I am digging the good earth, preparing my grave,
But life looms large before me like some awesome surfer’s wave.
And I will ride that wave, strong and robust,
I am not ready to be ashes and dust.

I am digging the earth in a wild, wondrous way
And I like it so much that I think I will stay,
At least for a couple million more days.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED