I stood with my long arms splayed above
To welcome the fiery warmth of the sun
My toes dug deep into the dark, moist earth
My fingers stretched to meet a waiting sky
I felt my torso harden and become gnarled
While green leaves sprouted at my crown
I became rooted in place…
An oaken memory of a life past it’s time.
That attempts to
Reinvent myself have
Only led to carbon copies…
Dealing with yourself
Means having to admit that
You might be crazy.
In the darkness beyond the tree line
I see the shadows of the potential children
I never had.
The whisper of the leaves in the wind
Are their hushed voices that never spoke…
The long gnarled trunks that stretch
Are their bodies that never uncurled…
The blowing of spores in the wind
– The promise of a future unrealized.
Crowd my mind like
Who just overstay their time here –
I thought of how I
Spent my time these past few years –
I wasted them all.
Every night I would lie awake staring at the empty sunken earth at my side. Cold and grey it taunted my tears. During the day I would bury seeds of all kinds, shovel on moist warm dirt and furiously water the mound… then I would settle myself and wait. Time would crawl slowly by but my efforts were to no avail. With the setting sun, the earth would exhale and sink, turning a sickly shade of pale – unwilling to yield even a shadow of you. While I was left alone, every night, to wither in deafening silence.