Friday, May 27, 2011

The Stone



I’ve been asleep in the center of a hard stone.
Trying to be.
Trying to wake.
Living in the stone.
Pretending I’m alive, all the while trusting the death that is so evident.

I begin to awaken.
This stone is not a chip from a mountain,
But the center of a fruit!
I have grown!
I have become!
I am no longer a stone, but a tree!
A magnificent tree in full bloom.

EVERYONE LOOK!
LOOK AT ME.
SEE ME!
I LIVE!
I HAVE LIFE!
DON’T YOU SEE WHO I AM?

I am a fruit tree.
I can produce apricots, plums, cherries, peaches.
I have it all,
I can do it all.
I don’t want to miss being in one single pie or cobbler.
I can make the taste buds of any tongue squeal with delight and satisfaction.

Look at me!
See me!
Know who I am!

But – who am I?
Will my beautiful blossoms produce peaches, or apricots, or plums, or cherries?
Am I to make pies or jam?
What am I to do?

Shakespeare said,
To thine own self be true.
What does that mean?
That question feels like a stone buried deep inside my heart.
This stone holds the question.
This stone holds the answer.

Another tree,
Another season,
Another winter –
Beautiful, glorious, peaceful winter.
A winter infused with magic,
A spring infused with hope,
A summer infused with growth,
A fall infused with harvest.

That’s what I am to do:
Learn from the winter.
Enjoy the spring.        
Grow into the summer.
Partake of the fall.
Love my life!
Celebrate my life!
Dance in the harmony of all seasons expressing at once.

1 comment:

Brad Wiggins said...

Anita, I love the poetry you write, and I love the beautiful poetry of your soul!