Hello, my name is Sophia and I am a teacher of English in Ancient Olympia, Greece. Welcome to my blog!

Monday, January 14, 2013

The leaves they move like poetry

 “In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” 
Margaret Atwood 

 

The Moment

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.
Margaret Atwood

 

Arkham City? Hm..... :-D

4 Comments:

Blogger Darthiir the Abban said...

Άνοιξη;;;

:o

1:12 pm

 
Blogger Sophia said...

@Darthiir the Abban
Μέρα ανοιξιάτικη, γλυκιά με ήλιο πανηγύρι...
:-)

3:27 pm

 
Blogger Darthiir the Abban said...

Έχετε χάσει τ' αυγά και τα πασχάλια!!!

:ppp

4:08 pm

 
Blogger Sophia said...

@Darthiir the Abban
Και τα μυαλά μας!!
:-ΡΡΡΡΡΡΡΡΡΡ

10:37 pm

 

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