... poems ..., ... poetry ...

growthDeathgrowth

i am the earth

i am the dirt

you are the Wanderer

you are the Sower

your seeds penetrate

my eager pores and

i swallow you whole

you split inside me

dead and decaying

your shoots rise up-

wards towards the

sun and you pierce

me from the inside

out.  your roots

sink deep and your

leafy green arms

stretch from my

belly and expose

the red underside

of my soiled skin.

if left to my own

devices, i would

let you sour inside.

but you object, and

rather, die to grow.

despite me altogether.

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3 thoughts on “growthDeathgrowth

  1. Sonny says:

    There’s a poem by Millay that skims this same thought… the strength of a single seed. In her rendition, the seed falls into a crack in a large, immovable stone and as it grows the roots split the stone apart. It’s a powerful image. A humbling thought. To realize that the smallest seed can split apart that which seemed indestructible. In Millay’s, it was a stone that crumbled. In yours, it was the man himself.

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