fallen ~ National Poetry Month, Day 10

You have fallen now, haven’t you?
Not like
a star…
brilliant and cosmic,
tearing through an otherwise inky
blue-black night,
leaving a dusty golden trail.
Not graceful and furious
as the bellowing water
over the high craggy falls.
Fallen like an old crippled tree in the mud…
and snapping branches
on the long slow way down.
Pulling up gnarled roots
from the watery muck,
so that every last little thing
is exposed.
Then, silently going under,
like all dead fallen things do,
into the cool dark
But now is your chance.
You are left on your belly.
They come cutting over you with their boots…
But they do not see you
You are forgetting.
Humbly giving back.
You are combing through the roots.
Separating what you will need,
as the bugs and vines take you.
And down there,
in the deepest darkest dirt,
you begin again.
To feel.
To grow.
The pulsing seed in your chest,
is ready…
To rise again.


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