Marie Burdett - Leaving Home
the trees have wept away all their leaves
(leaves that i will never see again),
the corn has shed its golden husks
and now winter’s white tears cover up graves.
we too are fallen leaves,
betrayed by the west wind and blown
to a land where there is no spring,
there is no home.
the bear may have a den,
the deer a place to hide,
the rabbit a warren,
the white man a cabin,
but i have no place to rest, no fire for the cold, no home for my soul.
in Georgia they took our houses, our cattle, our gold
but we are left alone, growing old, leaving home.
in spring the leaves will bud a glowing green,
the wildflowers in the meadows will be running free;
white men’s hands will plant their seed in cornfields that were Cherokee.
the bear, the deer, the wolf will come again to roam,
but they will not so for me,
for i am leaving home.
Marie Burdett is a young poet about to begin college. She recently won the 2019 Arts for Life Award in creative writing. Additionally, she self-published a free verse novel entitled The Little Boy and the Painter. In her spare time, she reads, sings opera, scuba dives, and pets her dog.