lessons from snake plant

i

when i was young

(younger i mean)

i loved digging my ragged fingernails

into the flesh of my dad’s

sanseviera fascieta

the snake plant

he gave the plant water as if

he was quenching his own thirst by doing so

the crackle of its sleek skin splitting

and the green pulp under my nails

were almost as captivating and addictive

as knowing i would never be punished

 for hurting something

someone loved

 

reaching up to the sky

until the ceiling makes each leaf bend,

the plant is all i need

to run my fingers over

my hand trembles as it pauses to trace

a white crescent-shaped scar

that rests on a leaf

like a forgotten sentiment

a dewdrop or a tear

 

my thumb recalls cutting and killing

this fragment of leaf

but refuses to fit into the divot

made years ago

ii

the plant carries

small colorless deaths

above paths followed in the past

could i hear the plant’s resolve

to forgive

and still remember

pain that was inflicted? could i remember

and still forgive myself for causing pain to others?

could i cut the hidden cycle that

channels abuse and finally slip away from

the skin i’ve been branded in?

holding broken circles of white and green

the plant whispers

to me

 

still stretching straining and searching

for a sky never to be reached,

the plant whispers with fragile confidence

you hurt me

but i will not hurt you

the love of one

who has only shown hate

is armor of its own

as warmth is a shiver

 

the plant whispers and i trust

satisfaction of destruction

will die

the plant promises

Author's Note

compare i. and ii. and tell me what you find!

Reviews

[SinCera]

that is really beautiful! that is really deep, and I think I get what your saying there