These words are buried deep.
The seeds were sprinkled by adults
when my heart was fertile.
But it was me who cultivated.
I watered and tended.
What grew was
I was given talents.
I was gifted.
I hid them underground.
I covered it all.
despite my efforts to conceal.
were influenced and manipulated by those two words:
Established roots held this life in place.
Fruit can be deceptive
with its color and texture and sheen. Its fragrance.
The praise after a taste,
It’s never enough.
As others sample my pain, my life, my growth,
are they deceived or am I?
The dominating roots from long ago,
hold me together, hold me up.
I can’t rip them out, destroy them
without losing myself.
Without them who would I be?
It is me – the one deceived.
Taste and see.
There’s health and nourishment too.
I’ve not consumed it. I’ve not smelled it. I’ve barely noticed the abundance.
Because I know from whence it grew:
When will I take a bite and savor the outflowing of my life?
Life must grow. Growth needs life.
I am alive. I grow.
So long ago
when my heart was fertile,
the earth absorbed.
as my heart is ravenous,
I devour the fragrant, sweet, abundant fruit
from the depths of