Fruit and Life

It started a little less than a year ago. I opened myself to the wonders of my own heart. I watched it bloom and fruit. Then I watched the fruit fall to the ground. Some how I forgot growth is a process. I stood over the fallen fruit to protect it from the beating heat of the sun. I watched it, as it let go of it's skin, and change slowly into seed. I cried a lot that night. I cried because I longed to taste the fruit. I wanted to peel back the skin with my teeth and allow my tongue to lick the juices. I wanted to feel life flow through me from it's sweetness. I left it to die. I thought if it could yield more fruit, I could savor it in another season, another harvest. So, there I stood night after night, over this seed.

 One morning, I went out to stand over my seed, but it was gone. I heard a bird cawing over my shoulder. I turned to see my seed in it's beak. I cried for terror and shock. Why hadn't I buried it? It was too late. The bird flew away leaving behind nothing to show that I loved that seed. I was ready, but not ready enough. I didn't plant it in the deep darkness. I didn't let it rest and split. Instead, I listened and watch the grass grow around it. I watched the rain touch it, but it never broke. Now, I wish I were that seed. I wish I were the one taken in the beak of the bird. Who knows where it placed the seed. It doesn't matter, because I am not that seed. I am not free. I am only the picture of something promised to the moon and stars. I am only someone with a dream of being carried away to the unknown and left there to nourish the world.

 Til then I lean on the fruit bearing tree.

Wisdom's Fool

Shaking my fists at the sky
tears streaming from my eyes
this was how it was supposed to be
and I should have known

The feeling of home
wrapped in scents of earth
and dust
I lay down the beads of my love
I brake the string
and watch them roll

Only in my dreams
have I ever been wise
or so it seems
my wisdom wears the mask
my soul bears the scars

Weakened over time
I peel layers of burnt skin from my heart
I stood to close
now I must heal

Empty, shallow, hollow words
are all I have left
it's strange how you feel so important
when you think someone sees you
and how empty you feel
when you realize they only saw
what could be used

when all things lose their shine
when they are worn from use
and in that use
have become beloved
to let them go seems easy

But when you are wisdom's fool
you rest in knowing
the only thing real is
the pain being replaced
and watching that pain come true

Reaching out

I'm standing at the end of something, not sure if it's the end.  I'm not sure what it is and I have no one to tell it to.  There's the one who needs to hear the words, but their mind seems to be wrapped in and around somebody else. There's no counsel of sound foundation I can turn to. What can you do when you are reaching out and your hand consistently gets slapped down. What can a heart do when it's trying to find a silent place and it's surrounded by noise and terror?  It does nothing. This is the answer I hear, you do nothing, but let things fall and break and see if anything can be made of the pieces. You watch your thoughts be rearranged into morbid little morsels of twisting pains. You get high off of contrived scenarios where you say everything on your mind, but when the 30 mins are over, you return to the deadness inside.

    If life is funny, I keep missing the punchlines. I keep looking for sanctuary from the falling boulders of my crumbling spirit. I ask the stars for mercy, I dance for rain, and I bleed for sacrifice. Isn't that enough? I'm reaching out for postcards from the inner me. She seems to be on vacation in some sunny spot. She sends me visions of a life that sit's under trees for shade and sips waters that flow deep. I ask her if this is "ours" to which she  replies, "leave your heart on the table as collateral to find out."

Farewell

Funny how things never turn out how you think. I break a little. I break little pieces off myself and hand them over to void. I rest knowing that nothing makes sense inside my mind. I'm weak from the racing memories. They often make me trip over things that matter.

Falling in love is supposed to feel good. It does, but looking up laying on my back, I'm missing visions of things that were to come. Now, what have I fallen into? This is not love. This is a thought gone malignant, spreading like shrapnel.

Separation means we don't really touch each other. Then why are you always here, touching me? Do you feel me? Do you feel me at all? Or am I just enough to fill the spaces in your life? The gaps of quiet you dare not listen to? It's silly of me to ask you this, this isn't real love. This is something in between it.

Stupid me. Foolish, simple, silly me.  I missed you today. I took a vacation from my troubles and missed my appointment with destiny. So, I am roaming around this foreign place called my life. I said I wanted to travel with you, I just thought it would cost something. I guess it did, it cost me a dream.

Whenever "ever"  comes close enough for me to grasp. I will tell it the story of us. I will tell it of the hope and faith that leaked through a heart that couldn't watch itself bleed. I will tell it of the tears you never wiped away. I will tell it of the truth I never heard you speak, but always implied. I hope you are resting deeply when I say farewell. I have never been good at goodbyes.

Future

I have never seen so clearly
like the oracles
watching magic happen
in mundane things

I see conversations
and laughter
I see the glow of cheeks
and the softness of hope
I see love growing

Holding hands
and dinners
sleeping late
and rides through the park
I see it all

Making wishes by candle light
exchanged rings
and having babies
excursions to paradise and beyond
It's all right here

I'm so glad to share
this vision with you
so glad I could
walk you to it's doors

Now, I will walk away
and leave you to your future
It will be wonderful
I can see it

Foolish

All guards down
walls falling
air filled with smoke
I wave the flag

Negotiations failed
a silent war raged
I didn't even know
I had an army

Pushed away from
the face of love
gun drawn
looking like happy

I once thought
I knew something about this
I thought I knew something
that meant that kindness
could be

I have since learned
there is no other time
like the time spent
thinking you have been chosen

This was not an invasion
this was done
just to prove it could be done
the casualties are counted
one foolish woman
with an open heart

To the victor
the spoils

WreckAB's Words: D.U..ET. (a poem by Christopher Lee & Kalonia Jennings

WreckAB's Words: D.U..ET. (a poem by Christopher Lee & Kalonia Jennings