Poison Branch
A somewhat mysterious poem
When we water and till our own soil
Taking back all power that is ours to toil
And bear it into pods lovingly seeded amongst your chosen few
In a place you trust in a place you few knew.
The upheaval in the wind which throughout your life blows
Bringing rain from a storm with lightning lit truth.
May be Drowning the seedlings that cannot soothe
Surely all will fall away that serves not your greatest good
Your truest self true.
And move on you might to something better, fertile or new
This you’ll soon realize was not a passing mood
To leave what you felt you’d planted but not found much wealth
To walk away to manage your health
Leave a time wasted or so thought
Cut such losses, nothing a problem once forgot.
Just a phase you could laugh to yourself about further down the road
But you sowed life here and something did grow
And here your tree has grown quicker right here where you thought it would.
At a crossroads those seedlings become what beside you now stood
for the darkness, for worse or for light or for good.
So I don’t walk away even though I should.
Should I keep to myself what I always knew?
Win and win and fail after fail
This tree though looked sturdy perhaps I should stay not avail
for when spring came along and the tree blooms as well
And that is as good as any reason, I leave nothing behind to just dwell
But upon my tree at the crossroad vale
One branch stayed empty hollow and frail
Yes behind me it was, yet it was a thing unsurprising
For the tree growing was an extension of myself growing into life
Carrying with it all its beauty and strife
The blooms far lush as your time had too
But this poisoned branch Had entwined in and become part of you.
But it’s bloom is sick it must be cut through
And the worst part is it could not be reached
To far to take this branch that lay diseased wilted and sick
I could not reach it though I knew it threatened the rest.
So i wait for something to cause it to snap
To break
To fall from my tree.
And storm after storm it stayed
Decrepit and poisoned yet it reached none of my others
It did not pass nor did it mar.
I left it there not bothering
Simply waiting, still watering
A storm would surely come a day
Strong enough then to knock it away
But time after time the sky turned gray
But attached to my tree like a pillar it stayed
And season after season rain and gray
Sun and drought it grew deeper into me
As part of me as the abundant, the one branch stayed ill
And time passed by
Yet if it did die
It still stayed hanging beneath a clear sky.
I left it there amongst the green.
A single bony finger in a body evergreen
Then Dirt fell as wind fell, so burying my tree
Yet the branch stayed attached
Perhaps now it would again grow and bloom
Bloom bearing fruit or maybe it’s doom.
So there it hung year after year.
When enough dirt fell in the ground burying inch by inch its trunk
The tree, fruit and itself had so sunk
Branches and bloom buried
But the poisoned branch
It never let go
even though
I had sworn it served me not.
It clung tight through the rot.
It gave no fruit
And dried up what rain it got.
Greedily drinking all I gave.
And giving back nothing
But now thought I, why should it be saved?
But again I could not even kick it off with my foot as it lay half in the grave.
Soon after it was far underground but broken off it had not.
And I shocked, realized, what I had never seen
Perhaps even what I had forgot
No root had ever been green.
I realized then it was never a branch
but part of the root
I could have torn it off, burned it to soot
It knew its place it just took time, some belief and more truth
It was meant not to stand but take root
Dead branch became root
No purpose but infected but the kind that hurts not
Under the ground deeply in the mind
It was exactly what I needed and what I got
Where its importance could not be guessed until it was time
Part of the depth further down entwined
Giving steadiness, stronger than the trunk ever could.
Hidden and not ever a part of the look
But deeper beneath giving structure
Even the blooms were greater just not a bloom
No color it bore but held more importance
Grounded solid holding up the rest of the
To kick it away, tear it off had been just a test
The poisoned branch even if it tried could not be a traitor
Sometimes they become a part of you far later
And to leave them behind to sow seeds afar
Could ruin the tree that we already are.
The tree of life carries our soul
Yet so the tree itself is beyond one life old
And if cut in half the rings of every year, too few would seem 3 and 5
yes the rings are numbered more for there is more than one life
For each tree carries a poison branch
Never by chance
Just identical to each passed time.
For each life of each soul has its very same piece
that dies and lives and roots.
Structure and patience and proves
Only then to give.
Lesson, not fruits
But it has to be recognized.
For any of its proof.
One must tend what it already knows is truth.
To move on is to repeat the cycle again in the next life
Heartache and strife compounding without knowing why
With fewer and fewer powers to mend
And less seedlings to sow.
But there is not doubt you’ll meet it the next time you grow.
And you won’t know it by sight
But there it will be to confound and mystify you and goad
your poisoned branch yet again at the next fated crossroad.
So tend what you already know will grow.
And life will be more than you can ever know.
For time itself can speed up and slow.
Look upon that which will willingly grow
Even when the strongest of wind blows.
When tended lovingly it will take root and uphold.
When watered correctly no drought will you know
All abundance will ascend unto you and eagerly flow.
For the tree of life
A poison branch that becomes a root
Will know your soul.
—C.R.S
Symbolism abound.
