(Fear) not

Roots are growing
stark dark
along the walls of my soul
they draw all the clear water
and i plow through memories
looking for that hurling wind
that carried in a seed of
destruction- and
(knocked me down)

from the
first scream of life
to the shock of all things first
to the fading relationships
to the colorful imaginary heroes
to the shadows of death
to the meltdowns
to the isolation
to the refreshing joyful moments
to the blurry vision of love
to the jolts of loneliness

all of it has come so far
entangled and chocked up pitfully
i can’t tell unhappiness from joy
with so much darkness weaved in

at night
when the lights go out
a voice calls for rescue
telling me that I know better than to fall
(close to the tree)
that i am not just rich fertile soil
for disaster to flourish in

with daylight, more roots grow
re-assailed,
i feel routine, i feel borrowed
tacky and useless
like a broken wood toy
vibrating phantom leaves

as every man desires to mend and be whole
I gaze at the sky
hoping for heaven to peek through
and distill the goal of my existence
for i want to be more than the clashing
hues of my essence.

 

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life.”

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2 thoughts on “(Fear) not

  1. Freaky, this feels like new territory for you. This and maybe the one before it seem to give that impression. But I’ve enjoyed them. And even that I’ve seen more than a tri-monthly post from you. Which is awesome. I’ve been increasingly nostalgic/wistful for the Sieve days of old when we could count on a 100 posts a month and not weekly droughts without a post. This is to say, I value your contributions.

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