By Lochlan Moorlag
And now I sit. Listening. Watching.
I was once a feather, soft and new.
Soldier of the air, flight was my name.
But, time ago now, I’ve drifted home.
Before the beast devoured my captain
Spring’s soft hope punctured the air.
And from my spiral flight, I watched him die.
So here I lay, in perpetual mud.
Fat toad, my neighbor, dies every night.
I watch, I listen. His croaking continues.
This soil, I feel, is eating my soul.
Become me.
Become one.
Become dirt.
Ah, how I’ve missed it.
I remember this stone,
It was there at the beginning.
Then lighting rent us apart and I woke,
Flapping.
Fat toad, Mr. Stone, it is good to see you.
It is good to be you.
I flew once, yes, and I will again.
But for now I sit,
Listening.
Watching.
Hello reader, my name is Lochlan Moorlag. I’m a young Canadian fellow hailing from a city just
south of Toronto. I’m currently in my first year studying humanities at U of T. I mainly write
poems. I try to conjure up images and ideas through wordplay. To me, poetry is the most freeing
and rewarding style of writing. Recently, I’ve been very interested in the image of the circle–
how abundant it is in the world, how perfect a shape it is, I could go on and on... In this poem,
Reflection, I try to bring forth the ever-moving, circular motion of nature. I hope you can enjoy
my poetry and allow it into your mind. Thank you.
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