Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Let your fate take root
On hard rock, tangle and bury
Before the coming storm.

and before the coming of the storm
amidst a garden of your crafting
Beliefs and memories planted
and like seeds watered
Take root amidst your cherished greens
Take hand in hand your
memoir 
and brace with rooted tangled feat
-mangled,
The coming storm
Come to wash away
come to whisk away;

This is a magical storm
something fantastical
	like myth was born
from your hands, as you shake them left to right
and wrestle from them
 seeds
trample on your well-trodden soil
and in waves bead your sweaty water
shelter little sprouting
take shelter in his shadow,

Did you nurture your garden?
like I have nurtured mine
	mine, lush with little ideas
lush with my graceful evasion
of duties unwatered
moments hoarded
lush with little trees, that in my shadow
do not grow,
and their little fruits, so sour born
Yours, that garden, a gnarled tree
posies tangled on mangled fields
bounties of fruit, in your mangroves
	children of our labor
all alike stand before the storm,
	
	Dark clouds gather, broil forth like no afterthought
an army summoned to war, the tax collector come for dues
and bubbling forth
Comes lightning and thunder like sickle and torch
Come to reap the song and sun:

and it is in this shadow they finally grow
and gnarled hand takes my own
	-I will not rot away on my own
I stand before my fated choices
and together
our bonds new, old and gnarled
stand firm these moment’s beliefs and
	creations
children and parent, arms locked, heads on shoulders both
eyes cast out and tears exhumed
before the coming storm

Our legs take root in our
garden soil
and we cling to what
we know
we hold to what knows
us
but the storm is just
so grand
and our roots are just
so shallow.

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