Zywa Our back

Our back is a wood without paths
great-great-grandfather's sixty oak trees
planted on his wedding day when
the house was ready, the house

in which the plans were made
to demolish it
and the trees

can pay for it

Everything new, no past anymore
that we can touch, but
young planting without shade
over the eighth generation

Our back: no wood, no garden
a hole filled with tall grass
in which sixty twigs hide

Inside the house too, there is light everywhere

Poem 1922
Amsterdam, 2018-11-12

Contemplation of a 90-year-old woman, of the 5th generation since the ancestor who planted the felled trees, who is a great-grandmother herself
Collection: Half The Work 
Keyword: Life: stream (go by) 
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