I see it clearly now.
Our truths are not the same.
Mine are soft and yielding.
Yours are hard as granite and immobile.
Take, also, how we approach the cherry tree.
I am at the roots, watering,
pulling weeds, nurturing.
You are pruning kinked branches that displease you
and misting poisons.
How we share a common history is beyond me,
as is the math that predicts where stars fall
and the circular laws governing the color of sunflowers.
As a child, I had a terrible nightmare
about a giant who suddenly began shattering the sky
with a sledgehammer.
I didn’t trust sleep after that.
And now you tell me
that you have a better way to grow peppers.
It occurs to me this may be where
our daily
lives veer out of control.
—Mitchell
Hegman
No comments:
Post a Comment