That damned weed
grew into a tree and
spread across the chain-link fence
like a lover in your bed.
I chopped at it
with a hatchet
with all my heart
and also with the weed whacker
fully charged
-just like my meds.
And now it’s back
fully grown
like I never touched it.
Ever.
I had to smile
laugh a little…
because that weed
is what we are
as people
that weed
is what we have to be
in the end.
That is the force of nature,
my friend,
right there.
That is the force in us.
There was this girl at school
Quiet Melody
was her name.
She used to hide in her hair.
Long and black it was
like a raven’s back
and she used it
as a curtain
so that nobody could see her.
When people addressed her
Melody would wave sheepishly
distantly
as though from another planet
and not say anything at all.
She had this favourite spot
on the floor
that she would stare at.
I often wondered
what she thought about
when she did.
You see,
she had this face
that could pierce your heart
it was just so beautiful.
Thinking back,
it was a real damn shame
that nobody
ever told her that.
It doesn’t matter what you write about. If it has heart people will see that and if it has soul people will feel it.
It’s hard to look back
when you are running through a night forest
without a light when you are sure that there is
something coming after you but you are not sure
what it is.
As the branches whip mercilessly across your wounded face
as you scramble to find footing knowing that
if you were to stumble and fall just once
whatever was mere steps behind you
would embrace that opportunity
to completely tear you apart.
As your heart thumps hard against your chest
as your breath aches but still you recklessly plant
one foot before the next and struggle to keep pace
you run and you run and you continue to run when
you don’t even know where it is that you are going
but it doesn’t matter as long as you endure
as long as you keep going and stay ahead
of whatever it is
that is chasing you.
It’s hard to look back
when you don’t know what you’re looking at.
It’s hard to look back
when all that you know is fear.
I don’t want to write safe.
I want to stretch out and
bleed across every damn page
and when it’s finished
I want to feel that I have
truly left something
that was a part of me
behind
as harrowing as the process
might be to myself
because why else
would I really bother
picking up a pen
unless it was to dig it
deep into my chest
and let it just bleed
freely and openly
across every
damn
page.
When it comes to matters of the heart
those that have a hard time
letting people in
are those that have
an even harder time
letting people
out.
When I speak to you
I am instead dreaming
of the beautiful worlds
that fall in words
from your lips.
I wait for the poetry to come
so that I can make words sing
to undress your wild heart
and fall in
but it doesn’t.
Your perfection
makes everything else
noise
even me…
but it saves my soul from serenity.
hernanjmonzon.com 