When I woke up this morning I saw the birds singing in a pollinators garden
If you listen closely, it was a song about how it feels to be light and free
And in an urge to be like them I get up and flap my wings
Only to be reminded I am bound to this heart shaped tree
Before I sat down an old branch struck me on the head
And as I hit the ground I saw a vision
A vision when you were the apple of my eye
You were new, and I acted like I’d grown the tartest tree in history
I told you about the bats that swarm at night
And my favorite birds to look at for, not that you cared but it made me happy to see you there
I watched the beautiful apples drop from your branches and I caught every last one you gave me
I turned each one into something
A pie, A snack, A cider
I returned each time not for another, but to sit by and talk to you about the superficial things
On bored summer evenings I grabbed a guitar to sing for me when I didn’t have words
And when January hit I tapped a tune on the grass to let you know I was still here
In winter coats and too many layers to count
And when spring came I said we’d do it all again
I had songs to sing this time and I printed out new recipes to try
New tales to tell and new goals to soar after
Maybe I should’ve more attention to the fact that
You weren’t listening
Perhaps you had become nocturnal
So I stayed until it was pitch dark with a lantern and made conversation with the owls and bats to tell you later
But you didn’t answer then either
So I sat down and waited for your voice
Or a voice
When I was 15 a sunflower taught me that patience would bring the best results
I carried that advice as a hat and would look at it to remind myself to wait
I wrote in a journal, blocking the view of a branch growing particularly close to my ankle
Luckily, you came back in February
But it was still winter
Did I ask for too much for you to be awake right now?
I cut your leaves into a heart so you could stand out even when you fell asleep
And when you did, I spent nights with you,
I knew what to expect when the 20th of March rolled around
I guess I forgot you were a heavy sleeper
I noticed a praying mantis running off with the ring I put on your branch
But I noticed you didn’t show any sentience
I showed a poem about a butterfly and I could’ve sworn you branches swayed the other way
And when may was coming to an end your branches were growing shorter and I couldn’t reach your hand anymore
I continued tapping against the grass, but the only thing to respond were an angry colony of ants
I tried to run but one of your branches got tangled around my leg
I gave you a hard punch that day
And looking back, maybe I should’ve punched harder
I woke you up, and eased you when I remembered you were just hard to wake up
You were dormant during the June apple drop
I confided in other gardeners but they’ve never dealt with something like this
I declared you unique, and you were for the whole summer
When I called my friends they noticed a mushroom growing near the ground
But mushrooms fit with the scenery, you’d come back for me
Only for you to disappear again
I reached for your branches, but I could never bring myself to rid you of them
Not even the branches reaching for my bracelet
And as I watched the birds fly and the gardeners at the beach
I waited and knocked on your back, surely someone was at home.
I gave you more fertilizer and water, but you only woke up when I hit my head on a sturdy branch
If I knew that was all it took for you to wake up, I would’ve done so ages ago
I sang the hundreds of songs and poems I wrote for you to celebrate, even if you didn’t have any apples to give
Though when I looked out the corner of my eye, I noticed your branches swaying towards the stink bugs on a leaf
And to that I chucked my guitar away, along with my pens and papers
Only to be reminded I couldn’t get up and go them
And so I lost the desire to sing for you
And the desire to make anything with your branches
When you woke up and started trying to grow flowers
I looked at you with solemn eyes, it was already winter
I got up and rubbed my head
All my friends think you’re dead
“I’m not stuck anymore” I said
Hiding my blue ankles behind the branches that spread
I looked up and the birds were gone
Away with the wind, the rabbits ran with the fawns
I grabbed some pliers an old friend gave me and freed my left leg
The right one….I let my heart take over my head
And so I stood on one leg
To sight see a butterfly flying away
I hopped around and sighed
I couldn’t keep my feelings at bay
Spring is around the corner again, but despite your efforts there’s fungi all over your bark
Your branches may be wrapped around my body
But they no longer have an entryway to my Heart
I don’t know how to cut your branches
Without you asking why
To that you wouldn’t understand
I don’t feel like coming up with another rhyme
I stayed with you for so long when other gardeners would’ve left you a stump by now
And I let you go dormant for so many things
You were the first tree I ever grew, and it’s so hard for me to….
But my arteries have gone dormant just thinking about you
When I was 15, a sunflower told me patience would bring me the best answers
But as I look at my right leg
And overhear the birds singing without gloom
I notice the praying mantis coming back with my ring
And through the silent air I can hear him whisper the truth
I can’t be with you
Author’s Note:
I tend to use a lot of nature metaphors in my writing. People often forget plants are living beings and despite appearing stagnant they too feel and have behaviors. I took this inspiration to write a poem about something simultaneously beneficial and harmful.
Chasitie Townsend | 16 | North Carolina, USA | @anti.chas on Instagram
