Poem: The Tree of Knowledge

The Tree of Knowledge

By Jessika Malo
QuailBellMagazine.com

I think I have swallowed too many seeds as a little girl 
Or maybe it was always there, 
Growing inside me, unattended.
And I’d call it the tree of knowledge, 
Now that I know it exists.
And I’d take care of it, if I could
Knowing its branches have grown inside my arms
And rendered my touch life, 
Or death, or something in between.
 But it is a tree, alright 
And I feel its trunk weighing me down,
And I stretch with its arms, higher or lower,
Or just give myself a huge hug, 
From the back, for history’s sake.
And when I sleep, 
That tree takes its time to unwind
 Before I can do so myself 
It never whined or yawned 
Or blamed me for keeping it in the shade,
 Always celebrating with a hum 
The sun on its leaves… 

****

the hum is now a voice 
And the little plant has outgrown me
And it required no conqueror,
Until you came.
You, who’ve climbed my inside slowly but steadily,
And have not gone lost, 
Reading the palms of its leaves 
Or swayed away 
By the hissing of the wind courting its branches 
A triumph lurking between the breaths of growth 
Between the little everyday deaths
Midst the mushrooms and the fungi.
That hold a tight hand with the roots. 
And you survive the earthquake
That you create,
And you leave it roaring.
And you endure the great flood
And the foam suffocation 
That the sea repeats
As a forgivable sin,
Just because He can.
And you linger there
After the cry,
As if you’ve fathomed the pain 
That precipitates as tears of color
And you celebrate with it,
Regardless...
And you watch as its flowers bloom 
As they wince in fear 
Of too much life, of too much happiness
As they forget themselves
And bloom to their fullness again
And you’re the one to step over its limbs
As you climb; 
For your pleasure could not amount 
To a whim 
And could not be subtracted 
Or divided by two 
But taken all in, 
Just the way I engulf you inside
A whole man, a whole city, a whole world… 

****

And before that tree finally outgrows me
And the woodcutters rush to it in vain
I will call the sun on my leaves
To leave you a wink.
And you shall climb it again,
Heroically.
And the branches shall steel from you
What you don’t grant generously
And they’ll plant your seeds
In their hearts’ heart
For the upcoming days of draught.
And they’ll surrender for the final flood 
Secretly triumph, smiling
Under tenfold of green 
Carrying an obvious resemblance to your face 
As I wear my tree on the outside…

#Unreal #Poem #Poetry #TheTreeOfKnowledge #CreativeWriting #Photography #Childhood #LittleGirl
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