Deafness fall upon me,
foul words I’ll heed no more
as you scatter them like Rapeseed
at the Earth outside my door.
–
From bloom of sickly spindles,
leaves of cabbage, white as milk,
petals burnt a Yield-less Yellow,
they asphyxiate their ilk.
–
Their nettles rise to meet my feet,
draw blood like mourning dew,
I grind them deeper than the roots
as I chop the ancient Yew.
–
In the clouded fields of Heaven
does a copse of flowers grow:
stem of emerald, petals pale-pink,
beneath gold sun, they glow.
–
Inside each bud, a person lay
in silent solace, there
forms a thornless, midnight rose
she weaves fast into her hair.
–
The ones who wait at Garden’s Gate
with water gourd in hand
shall pull from time the Evergreen Vine
of stewards for the land.
–
But like Adam come to Eden, too,
in dark dogwood you’ll find
another’s tainted finger who
dares pluck out yours or mine.
–
So I summon every Angel, be you
Winged, Felled, or Arch,
beat witness to my words to
make them corporeal as bark.
–
For those whose fielded flower’s fate
was tramped long before my prayer:
for every petal stolen,
plant a seed of Healing there.
–
For those who bore in silence
wicked deeds, both seen and done:
let words sow seeds that sprout
like weeds to blot out putrid Suns.
–
For the brazen, cursed heathen who steals
blooms for wilted, withered crowns:
let Judgement pass, sure and fast,
in lake of fire, swim and drown.
–
For those who wish to stop my chant—
my words are Rapeseed.
Ha!
You can’t.
–
On windy current and water’s flow:
Scatter.
Bloom.
Grow.
Menkiss Monthly 