Posts Tagged ‘scarecrow’

Dear Scarecrow




I, too, wish to confer with the flowers.

I, too, wish to consult with the rain,

but I have spent so many years

learning that I’ve lost the ability

to speak and listen in these natural tongues.

Today I sat beside an old spruce tree

for an hour and never understood

what it had to tell me. I tried.

Perhaps that is the problem, the trying.

I don’t know how to do it any other way.

Oh Scarecrow, I know too much.

Me and all my certainties. I’ve made walls

out of what I took as wisdom, and now

I cannot see around them. I made

stories out of facts and histories, and now

I cannot hear the spruce. I can barely

hear my own wild heart as it shouts

in some strange language I have

filed away or perhaps I never knew?

Oh this brain, how it costumes

everything else into terms of risks,

probabilities and rules.

How I long to listen clearly

to the flowers, to the rain,

to my heart, to the spruce.

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