This Tree Was

I kept listening to beliefs: “This is the way things are.” “This is the way things have to be in order to…” “You know, if you do this, you will receive that…” “That’s just the way it is. That’s just the way I am.” “What I really want for you is….” “You’ll be happier if you would just….” “If he really loved you, he would…” “Well, if you really love him, you would feel…” “If you do this for me, then you will get this…” “If you don’t do this, then I will talk about it until you do.” I not only listened, I became them. My choices were based on the list of phrases. I had to “do the right thing.” Or…. Or I would die? Well I am dying today. Not dying like my body has fallen and is breathless. Dying like full of breath, full of grief. Dying like; “I hate dying because I keep thinking it’s permanent and that I will always feeeeeeeeel.” Dying like; “I think I am becoming weightless with all of this heavy gunk junk falling off of me.” Kerplunk kerplunk The pu-u-u-u-u-u-u-lling like picking a stubborn apple. And the plops of rot thudding the surrounding ground. My expanded branches open out and up Free of knowledge that once grew on me That looked soooo pretty But sour and fused with poison this tree was…