The Moment

The moment when, after many years
of hard work and a long voyage
you stand in the centre of your room,
house, half-acre, square mile, island, country,
knowing at last how you got there,
and say, I own this,

is the same moment when the trees unloose
their soft arms from around you,
the birds take back their language,
the cliffs fissure and collapse,
the air moves back from you like a wave
and you can't breathe.

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

by Margaret Atwood

Comments (11)

No, they whisper. You own nothing. You were a visitor, time after time climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming..so true. nothing belongs to us. we come and go.. tony
We are a fuuny mob. Thinking we have arrived only to find we have left+++10
A thought provoking poem
Ausgezeichnet!!
I like the idea that was left by Erica Lucero, that it's about (not) owning the nature. But, what it also made me think of, that it is that the Nature in this poem could be also read as Life itself. The moment when you think that this is it, this is what I own and this is what I've accomplished, you've settled, you've done, dead. Because life, living means evolvment, development, and the only things you truly own, things that no one can take away from you, are the lessons you've learnt in school and in life, knowledge through books, experiences and hurt. You actually cannot own nothing material. The only thing *you've given* is your life.
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