Landscape, Eugene Delacroix (c.1850)
Sand, Robert A. Sieczkiewicz
Standing looking at an ocean of sand.
From where standing it looks sterile and bland.
Kneeling down with it under my command,
Scooping up countless grains of it in hand.
With rhythm between each hand the sand is panned,
As if ruthless authoritarian.
Some grains lifelessly fell back to the land,
Was not intended to have them disband.
Examination not as I had planned.
Those still held is it likely to remand?
Better to be humanitarian,
To couch inside a feeling that is grand.
Now standing beginning to understand,
For each grain of sand this is their homeland.