Flower Fruit

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Flower Fruit

 

Here in the heart of the conduit

Where I put the past behind me

I take my own life in stock

So I can move on with it, lock and key

 

I keep all of it inside me

I feel all of it moving, shaking

I feel the sides rattling, the bones breaking

And the battle unmaking my best intentions

 

I avoid other people

And their kind interventions

I hear their voices rise from the trenches

Their cries, butterflies of sound

Leaving men underground forever unfound

While the day quenches itself with blue fire

 

This is the great adventure

The story they came here for

The fictional selves they built for the war

This is the amusement park of young boys

Tasting the dark meat of the historical beast

The blood and guts of the interminable feast

That eats the night

With an insatiable appetite for quiet

 

I quell tonight’s riot

And put down the crazy rebels

Who yell curses at my best blessings

Disrupt my confessions

And blow out the candles in the church

But there is no handle

I feel my insides lurch and buck

I feel a total disbelief in luck or fortune

Kneeling where the wax congeals

Over lost hope on the stone

Feeling nothing and everything alone

Calling god’s name

And only hearing my own weakness

I am so lost

I seek only relief

 

Then it comes

The full force of grief

Shaking the forest, shaking the tree

Shaking the leaf that now falls softly

By letting go

We finally see; we can finally hear

Finally we know we must say yes

When all that is left is a low hum

Of what used to be

The scar of you leaving me

Them leaving us

The color of rust in the dirt

 

I cannot feel this hurt—

Recursive years now turned to salt

The burn of evaporating tears

Time steering us toward its dry ending—

But I can feel you

My own

The lost one inside me

But never coming home

The boy who lies under earth

I bear witness to you

Alone

I write my name on your imaginary stone

And relight the candle

That flickers in this dark cavern

The wick of a higher power sparkling

 

You are not lost

You are here with me in this hour

I am the flower of your grave

Where a few tears wet the future

Of our wisdom

Learning to live, to love, to die

To let go

To grow seeds

That flower from this sour fruit

 

By Julie Flanders

Photo by Jordan Whitt

#octoberprojectmusic
#julieflanderspoetry
#aprilispoetrymonth

 

 

LAPRIL IS POETRY MONTH, Day 20

 

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About octoberprojectmusic

Julie Flanders Marina Belica Emil Adler
This entry was posted in Earth, Love, October Project, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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