poems from Earth Is My Church
nothing lasts forever
surely a moon rules
over all this beauty
and mess, yes?
feel the tug of a full one
just before sun sets
on another kaleidoscopic
Kentucky afternoon.
threshold upon threshold
we cross. hand in hand
or severed, but together.
nothing lasts forever
just ask a mother
a lover
or a mountain.
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published in Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel #16, February 2013
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
_________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
reclamation
The dragonflies seem
to be doing fine,
dance about my work
as if there was no such thing.
Wind sings when
meeting tree limbs.
Peeper and terrapene
join black racer for a sip
where spring seeps
out into a tiny pool.
I join them
in reflection.
I have labored long,
dug with hands and shovel,
wrestled rocks and clumps,
hauled wheelbarrows and buckets
in an attempt to reclaim myself,
the headwater stream, the beauty
and balance that existed here before
bulldozers came to scrape
the treasure chest clean.
Left the land wounded to weep.
My work stretched out by the sun
slowly sailing across the sky.
I raise both arms up and breathe.
A spider’s web connects two trees.
Racer orbits me like a moon.
This is our home.
My day has been a slow journey
of healing all along the switch-
backs of the mind.
I am the snake
winding from one
end of the wetland
to the other.
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published in Kentucky Monthly, November 2012
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
surely a moon rules
over all this beauty
and mess, yes?
feel the tug of a full one
just before sun sets
on another kaleidoscopic
Kentucky afternoon.
threshold upon threshold
we cross. hand in hand
or severed, but together.
nothing lasts forever
just ask a mother
a lover
or a mountain.
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published in Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel #16, February 2013
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
_________________________________________________
_______________________________________________________________
reclamation
The dragonflies seem
to be doing fine,
dance about my work
as if there was no such thing.
Wind sings when
meeting tree limbs.
Peeper and terrapene
join black racer for a sip
where spring seeps
out into a tiny pool.
I join them
in reflection.
I have labored long,
dug with hands and shovel,
wrestled rocks and clumps,
hauled wheelbarrows and buckets
in an attempt to reclaim myself,
the headwater stream, the beauty
and balance that existed here before
bulldozers came to scrape
the treasure chest clean.
Left the land wounded to weep.
My work stretched out by the sun
slowly sailing across the sky.
I raise both arms up and breathe.
A spider’s web connects two trees.
Racer orbits me like a moon.
This is our home.
My day has been a slow journey
of healing all along the switch-
backs of the mind.
I am the snake
winding from one
end of the wetland
to the other.
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published in Kentucky Monthly, November 2012
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
lifeboat
I can see
you need
a lifeboat
a set of strong
arms wrapped
around you
one brave hand
reaching up
from the abyss
but
my previous
rescue attempts
have ended
in failure
I was a lifeguard
who instinctively
dove in
battled the waves
and changing currents
to save another
only to find
that I had
forgotten
how to swim
someone
had to drown
so I let go
I did
everything I
possibly could
to get back
to the safety
of the shore
but I
cannot lie
it was a pathetic
dog paddle
I could not help
but swallow
salty water
and now
having reached
the beach
having lost
so much before
to the awful bottom
I cannot even
stand to stick
one little toe
into any body
of water
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published online in Public-Republic, 2010
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
I can see
you need
a lifeboat
a set of strong
arms wrapped
around you
one brave hand
reaching up
from the abyss
but
my previous
rescue attempts
have ended
in failure
I was a lifeguard
who instinctively
dove in
battled the waves
and changing currents
to save another
only to find
that I had
forgotten
how to swim
someone
had to drown
so I let go
I did
everything I
possibly could
to get back
to the safety
of the shore
but I
cannot lie
it was a pathetic
dog paddle
I could not help
but swallow
salty water
and now
having reached
the beach
having lost
so much before
to the awful bottom
I cannot even
stand to stick
one little toe
into any body
of water
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published online in Public-Republic, 2010
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
microcosm
creek beds
are cradled in
the creases of
maples leaves
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
* published in Accents Publishing’s, Bigger Than They Appear: Anthology of Very Short Poems, 2011
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
creek beds
are cradled in
the creases of
maples leaves
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
* published in Accents Publishing’s, Bigger Than They Appear: Anthology of Very Short Poems, 2011
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
Kentucky is my body
I am a graveyard
a farm converting crops
to cement
a barn who lost the gift of tobacco
still stained with its scent
my aroma: sour mash
coal burning power plants
wildflower blooms and natural gas
redbuds, magnolias
I am cigarette smoke and cancer
strip malls like sunspots on a burned back
another and another
and another
church
acres and acres churned up
in the worship of money
Kentucky
is
my body
I am sweet water
sinking through skin to limestone
bone, a circulatory system
pushing blood through veins
beyond dams and stints
clots of plaque, cans and plastic
I am black lungs
bellowing the song my granny
sung over a hot stove while mashing
potatoes pulled from garden ground
before any future conversion
to cul-de-sac
I am a crooked spine
of knobs and mountaintops
centered only by serpentine
sway of back roads, my soul
where front porch stories
still echo
Kentucky
is
my body
and I am a gun rack
locked in a spare bedroom
where quilts lay spread
across peaceful beds
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published in Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel #14, 2011
nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
I am a graveyard
a farm converting crops
to cement
a barn who lost the gift of tobacco
still stained with its scent
my aroma: sour mash
coal burning power plants
wildflower blooms and natural gas
redbuds, magnolias
I am cigarette smoke and cancer
strip malls like sunspots on a burned back
another and another
and another
church
acres and acres churned up
in the worship of money
Kentucky
is
my body
I am sweet water
sinking through skin to limestone
bone, a circulatory system
pushing blood through veins
beyond dams and stints
clots of plaque, cans and plastic
I am black lungs
bellowing the song my granny
sung over a hot stove while mashing
potatoes pulled from garden ground
before any future conversion
to cul-de-sac
I am a crooked spine
of knobs and mountaintops
centered only by serpentine
sway of back roads, my soul
where front porch stories
still echo
Kentucky
is
my body
and I am a gun rack
locked in a spare bedroom
where quilts lay spread
across peaceful beds
Copyright, Eric Scott Sutherland
*published in Pine Mountain Sand & Gravel #14, 2011
nominated for a 2020 Pushcart Prize
Earth Is My Church, Accents Publishing 2020
