The Last Clearing

[Guest Neuro]

About a year ago, the last clearing near my house was torn down for a gas rig.

Here in Texas, that kind of thing sprouts up with it's ugly towers and concrete walls every day.

That last clearing outlasted the rolling field that's now a Wal-Mart, and the last little meadow near the local airport that they turned into apartments.

That last clearing was tiny, barely as big as a parking lot... filled with long grass poking up from soft earth, and tangled trees that wrestled with power lines.

But they tore up that last clearing to make way for a gas rig.

One morning, I drove past it on the way to god only remembers where; and didn’t even think of the life it held as the cars sped by busily.

A mere day later, there was no life.

The clearing had been concreted over, the trees hacked away, stacked in piles like dead limbs.

Fire blazed from the top of their tower.

They never found any gas.

Days and months passed giving way to about a year. I remembered the cranes and hawks that raised their little flocks in those gnarled trees.

I remembered the squirrels and rabbits that hid under the bushes and rocks.

I remembered my mother complaining about how the weeds made her sneeze.

But I mostly remember the way the sun set near it--falling down over the branches like a soft blanket of golden warmth. Something so simple and comforting.

Now when the sun sets, it blinds drivers off of the glare of metal rigs and plastic partitions.

Birds aren’t allowed to make nests in the metal human towers, because they chase them away.

Yesterday, as I drove home again; I thought of my own life.

How easy it was to cut away at, to pave over with concrete.

It was worthless and insignificant, a nuisance; nothing productive or useful for mankind at all--not like a gas rig. It was more like that ugly little clearing, that people threw cigarette butts into; and scoffed at how much the weeds grew up in during the summer--tangled, gnarly, and spiked like a weed was.

As ugly as a gas rig is, it was more useful than a worthless clearing near the side of the road.

To us humans, that is.

My life is an ugly clearing--a waste of space, a haven for trash gulls; a garden of spiky weeds.

All around me are gas rigs and gas stations, Wal-Mart’s and dirty apartment complexes.

All of these things surrounding me, are useful to people.

What of worth can a family of trash gulls bring, after all.

The world around me is useful to humans.

But it is ugly and dead.

This morning, I drove by that gas rig in the clearing.

The workers were cutting down the weeds that had made their way up from the cracks in the pavement.

Under bridges,

In the middle of highways,

In front of your apartment complex…

…The ugly things that humans call ‘weeds’ are trying to take over their useful creations that better their lives.

The ugly weeds of the clearing will always be cut down, so long as they grow up under their concrete.

But they will never stop growing.

[Guest Neuro]

Just a short writing thing about what I thought about when I woke up--aheheheh. I have been sick for a little while and very tired, but I wanted to write.

[Guest Elizabeth K]

Pure prose! I knew after the first sentence I was in for a treat!

Lizzy

[Sally]

Take Heart My Friend,

by Sally Michelle Jackson

One day the weeds will win, they always do

they win because to them losing is something new.

Weeds fight their battles to survive everyday,

but men give up and people move away

and the weeds and wildlife find their new homes

among the shattered dreams of those arrogant ones

who knew that they had a better way to live.

But in the end had nothing to give.

[Guest Evan_J]

Talent

[Guest Neuro]

Beautiful, Sally! ;_;

[Sally]

It may show up in my book someday - it is on my blog now, but with your permission, I would like to dedicate it to you in the event that I ever get the book finished and published.

Love ya,

Sally

[Guest Neuro]

I would be honored. *Is speechless*

[Guest Leigh]

The world around me is useful to humans.

But it is ugly and dead.

my favorite line.

ah. it gave me shivers.

i have to say, i am not one to post compliments on people's art (of any kind) lightly.

i myself am an artist, and i believe strongly in (constructive) criticism.

by this was great, i might have some arguments with you stylistically, but that's why it's your style of writing, and not mine.

the diction was good, the imagery was fantastic, the message true, personal, universal.

ok, i'll stop gushing. but i understand how this inspired Sally to write a complimentary poem.

peace&love

Leigh

[Guest Neuro]

Thank you, Leigh!

I'm not a real poet, I guess this isn't a poem and more of a story. I am not sure how to make it rhyme or put in special spacing, I just did it in one draft <w<