Hero Among the Tulips
Our love began when the tulips sprouted,
Back when your glimmery eyes competed with the dew off the many paths you led me down,
Your fresh love was one that I never doubted,
I watched you from afar, throwing pebbles as I stifled a smile high above in my nightgown,
You and me, a mere happenstance of emotion,
A boy looking for love and a girl with so much to give,
Blooming much like the season, my sedentary life thrown into motion,
Our intertwined love touched on something transformative,
And you know damned well that I would forgive you if you had stayed,
But I’m weak, I’m hurt, I forgive too much,
Missing your protection, your continuous shade,
From the cruel world, I never thought that I had misread that ginger touch,
I see you treading away in your Oxford heels,
The crooked, cobbled walkway, your maiden voyage,
Leaving me waiting for spring,
For me to stroke the earth, planting my tulip, wondering what its imminent bloom will bring,
Confined in an unknown solitary,
Concluded whole by society’s gaze.
Immeasurable burdens I carry,
It had reckoned to be a passing phase.
Should oneself hide away their tendencies?
At the sole expense of belongingness.
Push anxious uncertainties
Who’s to break the anxieties of man?
Assured I was God’s cherished creation
Relief filled within me with unknown past
Sky graduate to heaven’s nation
The temptations of sin that last.
Who’s to say the feelings are still sore
Acceptance of who I am. Afraid of truth no more.
As quick as the embers
And the flames of the sun
Like the north winds of December
So far have we come
Through blades of tall grass
The earth below comes undone
with every stride, swift and fast
moving towards oblivion
Follow the eagles in their flight
Leap o’er mountains, one by one
Oh, my dear, don’t be affright
When the roaring tides come
The Mirror and My Face
Is that my face? No, really, I’m seriously asking
I know the camera adds, and Instagram lies
But is that truly the size of my lips? My nose? My eyes?
I never thought of myself as a great beast (or beauty), nor that my visage is lacking
And this is not a piece about embracing self-love, or acknowledging insecurity
But to think: is my self-image so far from reality?
My mirror has left me spiraling, the great unmasking!
You walk down the muddy path
the naked tree branch stands tall like
Spring’s tuning fork
dry oval-shaped leaves chime with cold winds
the golden coin shines from cloudy skies
you hear the pitter-patter of large grey squirrels
a red robin camouflages itself behind ruby-red branches
you place a hand against the tree’s skin and
sense its old soul
you are borrowed stardust born from the
same dark matter
with Earth’s new season emerge many
wombs and tombs
Spring returns with a growing light and
our cosmic course continues