Me, and the trees

I always longed to make my roots somewhere.

To feel I was belonging to someplace. Having the conviction I could find peace when in a precise spatial delineation within the universe, coordinated by geographical points;

And nowhere else.

Then I heard life saying:
The trees, they are outside!

Grab your arm. Clench it: it hurts. Skin changing color. Flesh sweating, swelling, smelling.
Arms pointing, holding who you love, stretching to turn off the air on the plane that is only on your face, stretching when you wake up in the morning. Those branches you possess unravelling towards the above, the undiscovered, the infinite possibilities, collecting the oxygen that makes your blood run, faster;

And I looked around, and I was possibly by myself, surely within myself: but nowhere where I had to be.

Number 21

Melting broken words,
unknotting longing arms –
band now my waist,
squeeze me
with your care.

Barefoot,
I am riding
the glass line
of the Equator:

Pour me wine,
let me clean
the corner of your chest,
you did not bring
any armor today.

Turn my face,
approach my lobe,
suck out
the thoughts of you
this skull
is trying to conceal.

 

My forehead staining the window:
pointing at
patchy meadows,
smeared clouds,
rolling mountain ranges;
still I am overjoyed:

My mind is on you
and on the prelude
that this is
to us.

 

Number 20

Rise!
     I’m standing already
     I didn’t see you coming
Do you want me here?
     What am I now?
Can I hold your hand?
     Please go, bring your affections with you
     I don’t need any
Are you angry?
     It is my face, it can’t wrinkle in a smile
     Why does it hurt
I brought you chocolate
I brought you an addiction that doesn’t bleed
     I am sick and tired of compassion
     Please wake me up
Do you think you are the only one?
Don’t you think I’ve thought about it too?
     I didn’t consider the now
     Now that it all returns back to me
I mean I’d never, I guess
Did you mean it?
     How fun
     It’s sunny today
Please let me believe you were asking for help
     It feels warm on the tip of my nose
I would have come anyways
     And it is November
I would have swiped your troubles away
     I thought it was winter already
I would have at least tried to
     Those flowers next to my bed
     Have no roots
Try to let me in
     You are not my family
Yes! Look at me
     I feel cold now
Don’t ignore me
     Get me the blanket
Why did you give up
     Those blank spaces
Take, you are shivering
I still need to fill
It is never too late
To be happy again
     With more chapters of a life
     I am afraid to continue

 

Number 19

My dad as Donald Trump
threatening the world to a massacre
My dad
pressing on the acceleration pedal
when me and my sister
are afraid of the wind
of the hair on our eyes
preventing us from seeing clearly
the car in the opposite lane
heading towards us

Number 17

Overcoming the present to reach it,
now that the moment is steady,
still,
melted,
under the afternoon summer sun,
while you find yourself jointed onto the grass,
grounded,
part of the circular whole.

Consider your little being,
– the sky is so beautiful
Reach it and love it,
then think it,
shout it loud,
“I’m gonna die now!”

Silence.
And while lingering on the wavy poppies,
you’ll feel your heart bursting in your throat,
that you did not.