Page 9 - silent_secret

THE TREE AND ME

When I fall a thinking
My half-closed eyelids
Reflec1t the pitiful faces of my forebears although I
try to avoid them.
The inherited sadness
That I see reflected in the mirror hanging before me
Makes me tremble with I know not what. ,
When I make one of my rare visits home
I shake aJt1 the sight of my genealogical tree :
I'm afraid the withered branches
Would claw out my spinal column.
In a sea of poverty and tears
Looking for me sit!s down my itree,:
Having pounded its finger inst:ead of grain
Having a suppurating thorn in foot
Wiith no money for post-gastrotomy tonics prescribed
by the Surgeon
With not: even dry leaves to shed.
My necktie and jack2},
Are cruelly shamed ini'.o seH-pity.
The red road dust smelling of the grave
Comes floating
And tears my Bloody Rogue's charmed circle of
perfume surrounding me.
Even the howling brat falls silent.
In the mirror before me
Hang my exotic experiences - a broadsword a cobra's
hood.
I:n my dream drama
The ghost of my progenitors rises wi<t:h extended
hands from the string bed
And embraces me in a flood of tears

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