Tag: nature

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Characters Poetry Stories

F.R.U.I.T

I once knew a child, they were beautiful and strange and had a soul as old as time and a heart that was broken and mended by lights and shadows. Our  child held the spirit of the moon. Their heart was akin to an oak tree that lived on top of a mountain by the sea. Our child was not loved by those that lived, or by those who were visible to the naked eye but rather they were held and treasured by the unseen, by spirits that commanded belief. They were loved by infinity. They were loved by change. 

They would dance and scream and play games alongside the cliff- pushing their back into the wind- fueling their invisible wings that had once soared but now were memories that fluttered slowly to earth’s floor- giving them hope that one day they will fly once more.

One day the child turned to the sea  and whispered “Love is birth. Love is truth. Love is becoming. Love is  bloom. Love is arrival. Love is safe. Love does not need to be forever for it to last always.”  

At this moment, the child smiled at the tree and fell to their knees and their hearts were united once again. We all heard whispers and tales from the tree, its giggles and leaves fluttering playfully in the breeze. Our child’s eyes never stopped searching for  new roots and caressed the darkness of life in the seeds that landed by its side. Our child never stopped loving and neither should you, for what are we if not a wandering spirit hoping for bloom. 

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Stories

The old soul

I feel 100 years old, my body has been taken over by an old soul. They are made of vines and they gather life by holding it around their rib. That is where hope lives. They tell me to sing but all I can do is gulp and inhale. 

This old soul knows what few imagine to be true, life happens when you participate within it rather than simply letting it happen around you. Life happens when you try, without trying, you are dead muscle finding itself moving in time.

They learnt this the hard way, by spilling their life with excuses and people pleasing ways. They were afraid and thus this time around they told me to scream, not simply sing, let it all out, I should hide nothing within. I should bellow to the sky and shake the raindrops into my sight.  

I am scared. 

It pours down, my dignity and grace,  pooling at my feet, my sweat, my tears, consuming me, until I hear a cry. A child creeps up from behind my legs and I see that my old body is dead, engulfed by the vines and the moss that once cluttered ribs. My lips red with the winter sun, my eyes yellow like the autumn leaves,slowly consumed from beneath. I pull myself down from the sky and stare at this young face. 

What do they need? 

They scream as soon as this thought hits me, they pull the rest of my body to the ground with that one vibrating sound and I see that my body always belonged to the leaves and the roots, my sound intimately tied to the growth of fruits.     

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Quebrar e a chance de Reconstruir

I came by the forest.

Finding stairs and long corridors,

That lived on a view.

No bodies,

Yet the sensation moved,

In different rooms.

.

Connection is intention,

As people are bloom.

An open door,

          With comfort as the fruit.

.

Unlike the tree, I am rooted in uncertainty.

My responsibility escapes, finding stones.

Creating mountains,

As bittersweet leaves, frolic away from lusty trees,

I grow my vegetables and fruits.

To find a harmony that is not artificially bloomed in societal truths,

Am I understandable to you? 

.

I want something I can taste,

Smell, touch and unravel.

I wonder,

       How you smile,

When you see, a mind,

               That breathes freely.

                              With no pattern to walk,

              It stalks. 

.

Driving a force,

Like splitting wood,

Each log a different call. 

Fuelling your form.

You find a purity that burns to keep you warm. 

.

I do not wish to change your heart,

You are yours.

I am mine.

I only advise,

Time.

So you can walk, a path,

You choose, with each moment

You produce.