I found a place
where I am beautiful
I found a place
where I can stay alive
where I can grow
unhindered by death at least for now
I found a place
where my beauty meets the sunrise
I found a place
where I am not an embarrassment
to those that own the ground beneath me
I found a place where I can contribute
where my leaves can provide
the air they breathe
I found a place
where every morning
the sun rises
and smiles upon me
and embraces me
and welcomes me
and helps me to grow
I found a place
where I can belong
unashamed
undamaged
and not
unwanted
© Ruby Neumann
Poets Note: Written September 25, 2022
The sunrise was beautiful this morning, so I went out to watch it emerge from the eastern horizon. My heart was heavy. I was feeling much like the desiccated Wild Oats in a Bean field I was in yesterday. But this morning as I walked out in an open hay field and watched the sun in all of it's colourful beauty, I found some Wild Oats very much alive and growing tall and proud. The field had already been cut for the year, so these oats had grown in after. I found myself grieving for their distant cousins that I saw yesterday and then I found myself attracted to their beauty and magnificence. They stood tall and met the morning with a kind of stubborn purpose. Somehow they grew because they believed that they mattered in this world.
I found myself envying and longing for the same stubborn purpose and stance. I thought again of the dead oats in the bean field. They grew where they were unwanted. They were a hinderance to a much more preferred plant and were an embarrassment to the farmers. How were they supposed to know that ground was sacred and set apart for something other than them. They didn't, so they died not understanding why they didn't belong.
I'm a poet, not a farmer. If I was a farmer, I doubt I could afford to feel for Wild Oats. For the farmer, it has always been unwanted. But this morning, I found myself understanding its purpose. If only to remind me of my value in the world I live in.
