The reed you are
The reed stands
caught in a flight
halfway to freedom,
stranded in a swamp,
making the best of life.
Waiting in meanwhiles,
like you wait for returning
to the land you have left,
bending waves in all directions,
serf to the ruling wind.
Dreams of what lies beyond
make you whisper at nights,
rooting against all odds.
While the land means memory.
While the swamp slowly wins.
Ina SchrodersZeeders's Other Poems
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