North Star

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.