The tree looked at his friend
through the net of blooming flowers
at his forlorn form,
at the new desert on his skin.
Recalling his own autumn
that is gone and will come again
and wondered what is this friendship,
that makes them smile at each other
even when the same season
decorates one with melting flowers of life
and robs other of all the colors it had.
Tag Archives: wonder
The tree looked at his friend
When the wind blows
there are no branches to shake,
no windows to rattle,
no forgotten clothes to be abducted from my backyard,
no ghost songs to invite me to new nightmares.
Only your imagined face,
that looks nothing like you these days,
in these lifeless eyes
Making you almost real,
making me wonder
what is the distance in time
that I must travel,
how much should I age,
how much should my mind wither,
for you to disappear?
How many sins I should commit
so that my hands are not stained
only by your tears.
I wonder if in every love
what I really seek is just amnesia,
a means to cut off myself from myself.
So I would know more of world
than just me.
But it is all hopeless
because even in my want to forget
I carry my vanity along.
I am only drawn to loves
that can separate me from what I have done
and what I want to be,
that can remind me of (or even become)
a moment in my life
where I was something precious
to someone else
and I was all they can see.
I am <so> and <so> because
I am <all innocent qualities which I don’t really have>
and people are <all words that can paint a thorough villainous caricature for my convenience>,
people treat me like <unpleasant words that are at least half-true>
just because I let them.
After all these years, is it any wonder that I act like
<everything I hated in the people who supposedly made me suffer>.
So you must accept me as I am.
I have suffered enough.
I have reason for acting like what I do.
I was once <completely opposite of what I am today> and that is what I still am deep inside.
So you must wait and support and love me even I am unbearable.
I looked up at the confused giants
and puzzled at their ugly voices
and deformed faces,
how they hold onto stones and branches
how they hold onto papers,
and threw each other off cliffs.
But what made me sadder was
that no one who was thrown off those cliffs ever died.
They just keep coming back
looking a bit different, speaking more funnier
and acting more mean
and throwing each others down again.
No one ever died here.
Everyone lived and everyone wanted all this to end
but no one wished it more than me.
I was made to believe that the little blood I have in me
is their doing, is their gift.
I wonder how much time it would take
to empty myself from the traces of this violence
and memories of people I grew up calling my family.
I continue to live in the light of my own making
knowing it is the only light I’ll ever find.
For a moment I wonder, how I look to you.
Loosing my sorrow.
Loosing my frown.
Loosing my mind.
One by one
I close these windows
through which your eyes prod me,
to see what’s left behind.
This growing envy, this show for sympathy
these broken words with drops of blood
is all that you would find.