breathe trees

We split like the slice of an apple

skinned in shock,

stunned open

teetering on the Birdseye maple

cutting board.


Drop the metal shards, words.

Drop the armor of fear, fists.

Drop Everything. Even your dreams, 

your hopes,

the unborn,

the thick cloak 

keeping the frost from the last stems of basil.

Let it burn cold at dawn

and wilt back

to the tender place it began, 

among bones.


Breathe trees. 

Lean towards the light, where love is

not where it isn't. 

Clear cut the cord

that ties you to anyone 

or anything

frightened to meet the Magnificent,

unwilling to claim your devotion,

your sacred heart

among tangled weeds.


This will be the last time 

we breathe life into our failures.

The path is an elegant branch,

it curves,

spiraling deep into the center

into the place you never left

into the place you are