Björn, of dverse poets, has dealt the challenge this week to write a poem about soil. So here it is.

I come from Tuscan soil
toasted brown and fragrant.
All life is in her
and ever loyal
will return to her.
When the time comes
and come it will –
I know this for I have felt
the soft beating of your memory
beneath my feet
like the wings of a caged bird –
O mio babbino caro
I have not forgotten:
all life is layers.
I too will take my place
in this living soil.
I will come home.


34 thoughts on “Homecoming

  1. Oh this gave me the chills. To begin with, the first thing I uploaded into my new car was “Mio Bambino Caro,”–it brings tears to my eyes because of the memories of my dad. Then the opening two lines and these:
    I know this for I have felt
    The soft beating of your memory
    Beneath my feet
    Like the wings of a caged bird
    Thank you for a deeply touching poem, Diana. Bella!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. We do miss them. I lost my mother a few months ago…my birth father in WWII (I didn’t know him) and my (Italian) adopted father in 2001. There is such a void. I can’t imagine losing them both in such short order though, as a hospice nurse, I saw that happen a lot. BTW–read your bio–I’m a JRT lover, too.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. we have a saying in my mother tongue that the soil is our spilled blood for when children are born we plant the placenta into the ground, we still do till this day, well if we were living in the village we would.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I live this poem, Diana! This time last year I was preparing to fly to Florence for my daughter’s wedding in Tuscany. ‘Toasted brown and fragrant’ is a wonderful way to describe one if my most favourite places.

    Liked by 1 person

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