a Country in a pocket

my Country I did carry
in my pocket
secure in the confines
of where
I wanted it to be

and
as long as I did not disturb
its place of rest
it was a thing of limitless ambition
unbridled glory
and infinite possibility

but
when I finally thought to check
the well being of my charge
I found a hole in the pocket
where my country
had been

and
all traces of glory
possibility
ambition
fallen beneath my feet
and trampled in
the dust

but
in my other pocket
amidst the dirt collected there
is the seed of a hope
fragile
afraid of holes and those who
trample countries in the dust