Monday, November 2, 2009

gardening

Let go, let go! Let
go each petal tightly curled around your hammering
heart. Unfold them
tenderly, softly pry at their
tearfully moistened cocoon
with your clumsy, eager fingers.

Dirty your hands in the soil of your open chest
as you gently harvest the fruits of eighteen years
of watching and waiting
fearful, hoping that someday this small thing inside you
would nod up from the till.

Let go, let go, quieter now but still
diligent- do not forget what those early moments felt like.
Remember what that first petal looked like in your hand,
softly translucent and wrinkled,
remember how delicate it was to hold.

together

I'm sitting in my room with the national playing and
feeling good for once. Maybe
I'm finally figuring out how to be around people
and not arm myself too heavily, to shed
my meshy links at the door
and dance happily
among the friendly spirits,
the wavering egos who desire happiness and
that's it.

I'm learning that wanting to be happy isn't such a bad thing
and that closeness is a truer form of knowledge than anything that can be written.

While I sit here alone I feel surrounded by a pulsing
yellow-radiant sphere, like the small gleams
that the sun makes on the hills over Portland. At night
when I look at the moon it tells me
that I am no longer alone
and that I never deserved to be.