Fallout Poetry - The Dirt of the Wasteland | Penana

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#5

The Dirt of the Wasteland

Lyra Hynes

Dec 8, 2019

444

1 Min Read

x

I saw my family buried

No comfort from the wastes

They lived from this broken soil

Born in the broken ashes

They lived in the dirt and into the dirt

They returned

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I saw my father cry

My mother leaving him forever

Taken by the wasteland

Taken from us

Far too early,

And my tears far too late

For nothing will grow of them

No hopeful sprouts in that dirt to grow

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She gave all she had to the ground

Kneeling, praying

For food to grow

She rearranged and comforted

In that ill dirt

Tucking in those sick earth-children

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But it was a waste

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For the wasteland spares no one

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Not even my mother,

returning to us alive

Always praying to the earth

Every year she prayed lower

Her back bent from young years turned old

Child after lost child

Joining her holy garden she prayed to

Hoping they would stay with her

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But only I remained

Branches unbroken

I gave her my fruit

My father my limbs

She caressed me

Told me she loved me

Because I survived

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But all things must end

Just as my siblings

And now she joins me, we’ll grow together

In the broken dirt of the wasteland

ns 15.158.61.48da2

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Table of Contents

#1 Lost Children

#2 The Last Minuteman

#4 Another Minute

#5 The Dirt of the Wasteland