Pick Up Sticks~

They planted a chestnut tree

The lining of the womb came into bud inside the soil

Cell clusters coaxed the dark roots to flourish

Blood ribbons tied themselves around each ring

Years passed

Every natal holiday I broke off a branch

It fell in a rambling puzzle behind me

My footsteps became leaf patterns

My journey a briar closing at my back

One day I came to a precipice

Before me was sky

An offering

I looked back over my shoulder

My sticks a trail of breadcrumbs

An insistent melody in the woodland of my soul

I turned to retrace my path

The briar wound roses through my hair

Each time I bent to pick up sticks

 

At the beginning the chestnut tree

A stack of kindling on my back

A kerchief of roses

I remembered the scent of my gypsy heart

Japan tattooed at the corners of my eyes

I built a fire for my sticks

My smoke telling stories to the night

Dawn picked me up on a breeze

 

At the precipice

Sky waited

I gave in to my nature

I gave in to my myth;

A thousand years later

A man found bones

Beneath a chestnut tree

He picked up the ivory sticks

Put them together

He stood there for a long time

Not knowing what to do with what he had found

 

The man planted a chestnut tree

For his first child

A puzzle of bones around the roots

 

Myths never die

Someone always leaves a trail . . . .

 

 

 

 

copyright:2010vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Reviews

[JelliFyshKissUs]

Oh my god! I wrote a piece like this called "maple tree". There is no way I can publish it now. Your words and images trump everything I could have hoped to say. You knack for implementing nature in your writings as an acrylic stroked canvas makes me melt with envy. What a trail of beauty.

[David W Moore III]

Maybe I'm just on a fractured mode (per jabberwocky) but I sense a bit of losing pieces of oneself then a journey trying to regain and rebuild finally returning to where you became pure joining with truth. A journey begun. A journey ended and maybe a new journey begun. A river flows from your fingertips and we are just flotsom along for the ride

[Bubo]

I adore myths, and the wonderful stories in them, true or not they are spellbinding........as is yours, in years to come this will be read and read.....and will be a lasting truth in your words.

[No use.]

how delightful, a cordial scent of the mother's tale !

Yes they do. The one you're leaving is dazzling.

[Robin]

visions of a soul journey ~ timeless ~ magikal ~

[Blossom]

Loved it. really beautiful

[Peter Joseph Swanson]

Aaaah - marvelous!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!