Truth too real

Some truths are too real, too coarse and unpalatable for society to take.


They require wrapping and sandwiching so they do not burn the throat or scratch the roof of the mouth.


Your confidence in self and the beauty of your being is a war cry, too terrifying, too loud for most ears.


My dear this world wants you dressed in apologies and to quietly crawl your way through life.


The words and ideas you birth are too hard and heavy.


Child, this world wants those utterances that are tenderized and worn weightless from consideration for oppressors.


Some truths are too disruptive for this age of selective reality.


There’s a tree I know

she sheds all her leaves

(once she even lost all her branches)

it doesn’t mean she’s dead.


She is waiting

sitting within herself

waiting, healing, sleeping

planning, waiting, grieving

waiting, waiting, hoping

believing, waiting, waiting

Here, kindly hold my mind for me.

Here, kindly hold my mind for me.

It keeps wondering into dead lands,
snooping into baren crevices, diving into gorges that dried up a million years ago when the star its searching the night sky for died and it shouts into black holes waiting for an echo with an outstretched ear that last heard the sound of gushing streams as they flowed back up into the brook they bubbled up from while the tree was yet a kernel and the sun a naked child of the galaxies running wild and free and the gods still paced the stellar highways as the worlds waged wars that rent tears in the earth that nile, amazon and ganges flow along.

Here, take my mind and hold it a while.