The Moment by Margaret Atwood


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.

4 thoughts on “The Moment by Margaret Atwood

  1. Meghan Jones says:

    Oh, I *love* this! I’m no fan of Margaret Atwood but I do think this piece is absolutely true and right. And the photo you chose, Mary, beautifully illustrates her point.

  2. cherylfoston says:

    This picture is breath taking!

  3. mincs1 says:

    I found it on the internet so I can’t take credit and unfortunately there was no name attached. Nature’s beauty at its finest!

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