Tithe Barn
A Poem by Ana Salote
Braced by the arms of Thor, thunder-structured, rumpus-rumped and oak butchered, stone sutured ark Walk wide the doors, bring in bounty, bow to the gathered, bank the belly’s wealth. Dole all sustenance, gift, grain, gratitude But see, the rat has come. One, and then another one, eats beliefs and gnaws all reverence. Voids to memory the once plenty hallowed hollows swept – empty Ghosts of our grains in raftered dust, barns to bookmarks for the National Trust, hungers designed not to be sated, harvests hedged not celebrated, shrink-wrapped blue dot use by dated: midnight tick, tick, tick... Up goes the call: a new barn for all Life builders graft, rapt in their craft Rapture of light begets flower begets seed Cycles chameleon waste to feed Come eat and store enough, no more then tithe To tomorrow with two open palms and a smile
The energy of this poem!