The past is the biggest chain
clasped brackets on your leg
are sewn
with pain
by worn out ancestors
dreaming of the now we breathe
and then expiring
in the dust
to feed the trees
that I now rest against
wondering of the yet built days
my children living pasts yet razed
their ankles bruised
and hued with pain
and jerked by old man time’s
strong lock and chain
The past is the biggest chain
By
Abbey Pope 