There is a Tree sprouting from my belly
I lie on my back,
I watch her bare branches dance
her fingers and arms obscure the moon
her summer clothes lie underneath me
dresses the colors of Summer’s forgotten heat;
red, orange, yellow
That old naked Tree tells me,
“Bunch up child, build a fire,
use my naked, sleeping limbs for warmth.”
“But,” I sleepily reply, “you’re so beautiful,
it would hurt to tear myself from you.”
…silence as reply
all trees grow silent when cold or angry.
As humans tend to do…
I fill the empty space with words,
“Can’t I just stay here a lil while?
The Moon looks so real through your limbs.
So close it could be part of me.”
“Yes, my child, you may stay,
and yes that moon is a part of you, and a part of me too,
but do not stay long ‘neath these ancient naked limbs,
lest you forget where your limbs end and mine begin.
Go dance for those who can’t
dance for those who chose to forget
whose limbs are whose.
dance for those who became one with beauty.
Go dance for the trees. Dance for me”