Birthright?

Out of the mist and onto the boat,

a traveler goes

knowing that this is the last time

he may call that land home.

 

The place he left

is one where he can never return.

The place he is going to

is one he thought

he would never

return to.

 

This is the land

of the traveler’s foremothers.

This is the land

that the traveler does not

identify with.

This is the land

that the traveler must

adapt to.

 

When memories of the other land

haunt the traveler,

and when people comment

on his accent,

the traveler smiles

and explains

that this is the land of his foremothers.

 

But even with this genealogical tie,

he still can’t identify.

The traveler sees what they see as fact,

as anthropology.

 

When the custom and traditions

fly over his head,

when people ask

if he truly has any genealogical bonds,

he wonders the question they ask

“why is he here?”

“Is he a native of that other land?”

“He is obviously not

a native of this land.”

“So who is he?”

“Why is he here?”

 

The traveler does not know

Where to go~

What to do~

When people who say they accept him

reject him as one of their own.

Little Bird In a Thorn Tree

Little bird

Living a big tree

Filled with thorns

Why do you stay there

Little bird?

Why did you clip your wings?

 

Little bird

Replies

That his family

Lives in the tree

That he has

Adapted to life there

Below the tree

Belladonna grows

 

But little bird,

None of your friends

Are able to brave the thorns

To visit you

In the tree,

Why do you stay there?

 

Little bird

Replies

That the nest

Is warm

If not entirely comfortable

He will make do

As he has no where else

To go

 

Little bird

Living a big tree

Filled with thorns

Why do you stay there

Little bird?

Why did you clip your wings?

I’m sure you have your reasons.

Beyond the Parrot

A little parrot

Speaks the words

Of it’s father

Hoping the father

Will hear

The sincerity in its voice

 

But the father looks

Away

Thinking that

The baby parrot

Is just

Parroting

His words

Without understanding them

 

In truth

The baby

Does not understand

The words of the father

And is just saying them

So the father

Will be impressed

By how much his words

Are revered

But he is not.

 

The baby parrot

Creates

A wider vocabulary

But after the initial

Disappointment

Father parrot does not

Look back

At the bird of his flesh

Flying at his side

 

The baby parrot

Widens his vocabulary

And has discussions

With his mirrored reflection

He talks to the mirror

And blames it

For what he himself has done

Telling the father

The mirror is to blame

 

The father loves the mirror

He loves looking

At his reflection inside

But he knows

That it is a helpless

Sheet of slanted glass

It has no power in this world

 

The baby

Lacking his father’s attention

Father Narcissus

Smashes the mirror

And gains the opposite

Reflected backwards in a broken mirror

Of what he desired

The Castle of Eternity

When the boy was a prince,

it seemed like everything

would last forever.

His key

to the castle of eternity

would never rust.

 

He ran carefree

and never felt

the niggling doubt

felt by those

who felt the flow of time

sliding past their veins.

 

While others took photos

of passing butterflies,

the prince frolicked in meadows.

 

While others wrote down

the melodies and recipes

they enjoyed,

the prince savored the moment.

 

~

 

But the prince grew up,

and when he did,

his key to the eternal castle,

where all these wonderful events occurred,

rusted away.

 

He tried everything to get back.

He tried to dream his way.

He tried to swim through the clouds.

He wanted to levitate to the gate.

But every time he attempted

such a feat,

he would fall a thousand feet.

 

~

 

To the once prince, now king,

the free gates

once eternal

were locked forever.

 

Without a key,

he scrambled

to recreate

the bits of his childhood

the atmosphere

the love

the life

to no avail.

 

He got

the photos and recipes

from his childhood friends…

but he discovered

the life pictured

and immortalized in them

was dead to him.

 

Someone else

holding a long-dead butterfly

did not excite him.

The recipes and songs

did not taste and sound

as good as they did

when he was a child.

He began to fear

that his kingly wish

was impossible!

 

But when he was borrowing

yet another load of memorabilia

from his friend,

he came across

a little girl.

 

She held a silver key

and was about

to go visit

her castle.

She invited the king along

and for that hour

the king was the prince again.

 

But that hour ended

When the girl’s mother

called her in for supper.

 

~

 

The king

elated by the finding of

of the key,

took it home with him

so he could visit the castle

from the comfort of his own home.

 

At his abode however,

he discovered the key

was simply a plastic toy key painted silver.

 

~

 

The king wasn’t able

to reach the castle of eternity

on his own volition.

As he grew up,

he slowly had

begun to see the world

from a different perspective.

This is what rusted his key

to that particular castle

that held his eternity.

 

Salt Pillars

I look back

I long to speak

My memories

Even though I was warned

I would turn to salt

If I looked back

 

Checking behind my boat

Looking at the reeds

Trying to see

That similar person

Who’s lifeline

Long split away from mine

 

Like tears

The water is salty

And I can’t physically

Go back

As the current

Only flows forward

 

~

 

In the amusement park of life

I mount a merry-go-round

I keep turning in the same direction

Does the circle have no end?

Kids and adults get on

And go off.

 

I met this person

On the merry-go-round

They said they would

Weather the ride with me

But when I looked back

They were gone.

 

Sounds echo into my mouth

As words fly by

Beating hearts cry

Does this break my fast of silence?

 

I called for them

Echoes did not

Reverberate

Like a shadow

Their presence grew and

Shrank in my mind

Until it was a button

 

At some point

After I had given all up for nought

It became

Convenient

For them to visit the fair

See the merry-go-round again

 

But I feel cheated

I weathered

And now it is too late

For that person to hold my hand

That horse has rusted

And I daren’t turn back

To revive ties I took for broke

Least my tears

Turn me into

A pillar of salt

 

She’s Not a Penguin

A penguin

(sweet seeming

from your far off glance)

This chosen animal

is really not

your cuddly vision of it

 

Said the woman

In the bottle

“I want to be

Sweet seeming

I want to change.

I even look the part.”

 

But could she act the part?

The penguin waddled~

Tried to walk on wattle~

But fast.

She got angry!

 

The angry red

of the bowtie

on a penguin.

 

~

 

But wait.

Penguins

don’t wear bow ties,

it’s a fake!

 

She’s not a penguin!

It’s not her nature!

It’s just habit.

 

~

 

“It hurts”

Ingrained

Pain

“I don’t want

to change,

it’s been so long

and I’ve gotten used to…

 

Always being-

En garde

 

“How can I

Be the kind person

you want

 

when I bare my beak

in fear

you will

As you always have

Revert.”

 

Into the snarling leopard seal

 

Frightened~

Zoo penguin~

Falls into old actions.

 

New actions

Change

Will take

Time