everything was still

and
the old world
began to eat itself

like the apocalyptic
desire
that wraps
tight around the globe
again and again.

the rest of us spoke
among ourselves

and grew strong.

together

we wrenched production
to a stop.

all the powers of the old world
strained forward
against human impulse

as if they could continue
forever.

when they no longer could

they withered like
corn husks
left in the sun
for too long.

then, finally
we were left alone
with ourselves.

so we blessed

the bakers;
the bricklayers;
the farmers;
the doctors;
the carpenters;
the mothers.

..

for some among us
the world had ended
many times before.
we knew it could again;
this time it could begin.

..

so everywhere:

in the smell of the wind;
in the creaking of the metal
behemoths of industry;

in the hushed breath of lovers;
in the black dirt;

in the shifting oceans;
in the rising of bread;

in the falling of leaves;
in scraped knees;

in the turning of thin pages;
in the turning of the earth;

in your blinking eyes;

everywhere
whispered a promise

of the new world.

..

..

a poem by Sam Crocker

just one word changed by me.

..

Biography:

Sam Crocker is a young writer from Bernardston, Massachusetts.

He spends most of his time gardening, writing, and playing music. His poetry has appeared in the Little Brown House Review, and his songs have been featured in the Valley Advocate’s “Valley Sessions,” (a local site for live music in the Pioneer Valley).

..

everywhere whispers to us, a promise everything was still and the old world began to eat itself like the apocalyptic snake that wraps tight around …

everywhere whispers to us, a promise By Sam Crocker