Wednesday, August 5, 2009



by Ellie Schoenfeld

My country is this dirt
that gathers under my fingernails
when I am in the garden.
The quiet bacteria and fungi,
all the little insects and bugs
are my compatriots. They are
idealistic, always working together
for the common good.
I kneel on the earth
and pledge my allegiance
to all the dirt of the world,
to all of that soil which grows
flowers and food
for the just and unjust alike.
The soil does not care
what we think about or who we love.
It knows our true substance,
of what we are really made.
I stand my ground on this ground,
this ground which will
recruit us all
to its side.


Anonymous said...

I heard this poem on NPR and looked all over until I found it on your site, Thank you so much for posting it. Now I can pass it on.

the redhead said...

You're welcome! You can almost always find poems read on the Writer's Almanac on NPR at their site. Here's the link for "Patriotism":