Sunday, October 4, 2015

The Nature of Things




                                      First published on Rebelle Society






The great eye of heaven
hides behind clouds
not on purpose.

This is the nature of things,
change.

Like leaves
kamikaze
brave,
helpless to their fate.

They adorn
the mighty oak
unconditional
with beauteous wonder
tresses of hair
every hue imaginable

an Autumnal bridal gown

only to one day
be let loose
without warning,
arms outstretched,
wailing for one last embrace,
before flailing through the sky
relentless,
tumbling within the fierce wind,
once recognizable,
once friendly,
once home

landing upon pastures
foreign to them
left in the wild of this world
to converse among blades of grass
and finding nothing
but incessant
chatter.

And the morning dew
once refreshing
turned to frost
unannounced,
unplanned for,

and breath
turned to smoke
in the crisp cool dawn
once warm,
inviting,
safe,

once loving.

And words
now fall flat
upon lips
that no longer yearn
for a kiss,
so utterly precious

and eyes
no longer view beauty
once divinely adored
by sight

and the heart hardens
to ego
and begins to close
when one ceases
adoring
the sun rising
everyday
just for them.

And it makes one wonder
if the mighty oak
feels any emotion at all.

For actions are louder than words,
silence shows disinterest,
and apology —
after repeated apology —
now means nearly
nothing.

I told you this would happen.

You smiled and laughed
said “There’s no possible way”
as you stared at me,
staring at you,
lovingly

and you liked that

and I smiled back
knowing the truth
yet to pass
my chest
full
my heart
pounding
trying not to

cry
I smiled

because you needed me to be strong
and I was a pillar
like now
spitting out bits of blood and bone meal marrow
seeping from the tips of fingers
that write words
beautiful,
like you

but you threw me away
like some secondhand
thrift shop
used shoes
human
being
with
a
heart

and it has taken me a long time
to accept this absurd existence
I have chosen for myself

but you threw me away

and I kneel under this dank, grey skyline
hovering upon the Eastern shore
palms raised
lined, in supplication.

These weary hands of mine
writing words such as this
to deaf ears,
to blind eyes,
to uncaring hearts,
to the bleeding mouths of those who suffer.

Yet, I rise
because
I am love,
I rise
because
I am free,
I rise
because I am
different.

And I rise
like the sun,
and rise
like constellations,
and rise
like mountains echoing time
after time,
that the sky
is
crying
thunder,

again.

You see,
you once saw,
like the others.

Yet, you threw me away.

Like seasons,
change,
is the nature of things.

I have been letting you go
for months

and
you
cannot
even
tell
the
difference.


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