My Love, Your Love (standard:poetry, 1588 words)
Author: MeiHua	Added: Jun 09 2007	Views/Reads: 2731/1959	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
I was looking out into the forest one day... Our neighborhood is building new houses and all, and then suddenly a poem of trees popped up into my head.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


and there you are again, 

pleading, 

watching. 

"This is life." 

I glance after the bus rolling away, 

I glance at my home, 

no one is home. 

It's only me with my pathetic 

Winnie-the-Pooh backpack. 

"Come, come, Merry. We will welcome you." 

Welcome, 

I scoffed. 

No one has ever welcomed me 

before; 

to these humans, 

I am nothing 

but breathing trouble. 

I don't believe in your fake promises. 

"Please, you'll become one with us." 

No, I cry, no. 

The door to home 

opens, 

I see my mother 

standing in the shadows of home. 

Quickly, I step inside, 

shutting all manners 

of insanity 

outside, 

but I know, 

oh aye, I know, 

the insanity is nestled in my heart. 

Part Four 

Life has grown unbearable 

to carry, 

to tote 

over these weary shoulders. 

It is morning 

when the sun breaks 

through with a radiant burst of colors, 

its vibrant fingers reaching out, 

embracing its love: 

the sky. 

A hummingbird swoops over me, 

a larger example of a bumblebee, 

buzzing, 

droning. 

"Come, Merry; 

all troubles will be forgotten, 

you can lie rested 

in my arms." 

Arms, 

arms. 

I never had anyone hold me 

when I cried, 

I never had anyone hold me, 

when I wanted the world to end; 

I want someone to hold me. 

"Yes, that's it. 

One foot ahead of another, 

I knew you'll come to love us 

one day." 

The branches beckon me, 

enticing, 

like snakes 

raising its head. 

Wrong words spoken, 

too rash, 

too forward. 

No, 

I can never live in your midst; 

my shoulders slump, 

as I walk back the few feet 

needed so I can go 

...home? 

Part Five 

The grasses soothe my fever, 

their rippling contrabands 

waving to the wind. 

I lift up a finger 

and a butterfly rests, 

its wings, 

ceased in its fluttering. 

"Will you come now?" 

I gaze wantingly 

at the greenery; 

I lift my nose up 

in disdain 

of the reek of garbage 

where I am lying now 

in this human world. 

My hand moves 

a slight bit, 

and the butterfly 

threads through my fingers, 

to its home. 

A wind picks up my hair, 

"Come, come," 

it disappears into the trees, 

where there, 

it stirs up more trouble with the leaves. 

A chorus of song 

bursts out from the trees, 

and I realize, 

Hey! I know this tune. 

I sing right along with them. 

"Will you come now, 

bonny lass? 

Will you come lie in our midst?" 

I pause my singing; 

the trees stop, too, 

in sullen silence. 

I hesitate. 

One step forward, 

another step forward, 

three steps back. 

Give me more time. 

"Remember, you'll always be welcomed here." 

I know, 

but I'm not ready yet, 

what am I but 

a college student of twenty-five? 

I still have a life ahead of me. 

Part Six 

Indeed time has passed me by, 

I have 

before me, 

my children romping around in the grass, 

their clothes 

a flash of red and blue 

against the backdrop 

of green and yellow. 

And also, 

I rest in arms, 

caring arms, 

wanting arms, 

arms of my love. 

"Come, Merry. 

We've been waiting for you." 

I stiffen, 

the voice I've dreaded 

to hear, 

comes back now, 

four years later. 

My nightmare. 

What's wrong, Merry? 

my love asks. 

I gaze up 

into that molten pool 

of burning passion. 

Nothing, 

I reply. 

Nothing, at all. 

The trees look after me in somber eyes, 

I'm sorry, 

I whisper, 

but this is my home. 

I've found my home at last, 

after years, 

after many delays, 

but I've found it at last. 

"No, you haven't." 

I turn my back on them 

as I once did before. 

Part Seven 

Thirty-six. 

Flashes of a birthday cake 

and the lightings of candles, 

lining my cake. 

Balloons float up in celebration of this 

sacred day. 

There's a picnic outside, 

my children are teenagers, 

my husband 

as lovely as before. 

And then 

I freeze in my tracks. 

Not that voice again. 

"We'll always be waiting." 

No, 

no, 

I push their 

honey-sweet words away, 

far away. 

It's my birthday, 

I don't want you to tell me what to do. 

"Please?" 

I could envision their lugubrious eyes, 

those wise eyes 

in the midst of green, 

sad, 

lonely, 

but no I can't go. 

Part Eight 

Alright, then get out! 

Our marriage ends at this date, 

words of anger, 

words of burning hatred, 

the once ardent passion, 

replaced with the passion 

of hatred. 

Things grow dim, 

things are pushed away 

when we see them too much. 

Our children are gone 

to live their own lives: 

one in college, 

another with a month old 

baby sitting on her lap. 

The children used to keep us 

together, 

but now, 

they're gone, 

and the last few shreds 

of our love, 

tears, 

the flimsy thread breaks. 

We can't live together anymore. 

I watch as my husband drives away 

in his Jeep, 

that shining red beetle 

then disappears over the next 

crest of a hill. 

"But you'll always have me." 

Go away, 

I rush away, 

tears in my eyes, 

welling up, 

bursting. 

Go away. 

Part Nine 

My breath grows short, 

sans teeth, 

sans mouth, 

sans eyes, 

sans everything. 

Without everything. 

My teeth cannot chew, 

they hate chewing, 

they loathe having to digest 

every snippet of unwanted information. 

I can no longer see, 

my vision is used up, 

the shadows rise and fall 

without my notice. 

Taste, 

taste, the wondrous being, 

fades, 

oh, aye, 

it fades, 

my mouth no longer wants to taste, 

I am sick of all the men's mouth 

on top of mine. 

Sick of new families, 

sick of the sudden tearing apart. 

Without everything. 

"No, no," 

the winds bring the message 

to my window, 

"you know you'll always 

have us." 

You'll always have us, 

the words are somewhat 

winning. 

I want someone, 

I want, 

I want, 

no, not man. 

Man is the last thing 

on my mind, 

not anything to be connected with man, 

no, 

I don't want them. 

"But you want me?" 

Yes, 

yes, 

I want you. 

I want to lie in your midst. 

I want to experience this true love that never fades. 

"Then come," 

the wind whistles, 

a clear, sweet melody, 

I remember that melody— 

a clear memoir from the past. 

"I knew you would remember me; 

I remember you, too." 

I love you. 

"Then come outside, 

and we shall embrace." 

Part Ten 

And so, 

thus, 

here I end up, 

outside. 

Outside, 

yes! 

Hallelujah! 

Outside 

where the untamed things are; 

spirit whole, 

unbroken. 

I am one with the forest, 

not one as humans 

think of it. 

((I am sick of all that oneness talk 

with partners of the opposite sex.)) 

This is the oneness, 

that link, 

that unbreakable iron rope, 

golden rope, 

life's rope 

linking you and me together. 

Outside, 

the outside. 

I roam 

like a deer, 

I growl 

like a tiger, 

deep, 

true, 

we share the wild together. 

This is love. 

"Come closer 

and you will see." 

I'll hold you in my arms, 

we all have arms 

in this mass of green 

that stretches 

onward and forever, 

'til the end. 

Yet one thing more, 

there is no end 

for us. 

This is the other world, 

this is another realm 

where at last, 

at last, 

there is no worry 

of fitting in 

because here, 

oh here is a tune 

anyone will recognize. 

Closing 

Do you believe in love now? 

I can only say 

I believe in love— 

oh no, 

never that shallow human love 

whose veins never run deep. 

Human love 

is evaporating 

water. 

But this love, 

this love is the love 

in novels. 

I have found the love in novels, 

I have found this love, 

oh this burning desire to do 

something 

is diminished, 

now gone, 

when I see, 

when I gaze into the eyes 

of my love. 

It is only a dim whisper 

in the air. 

"Come closer 

and you will see," 

but you can feel it, 

you can treasure it 

‘til eternity. 

My love, 

your love. 

Open your eyes, 

clean the conduit 

of your ears, 

and alas, 

there, 

there, 

you will hear it, 

that clear, sweet melody 

of love. 

My love, 

your love, 

everyone's love, 

this burning passion 

of everlasting fire, 

I share this passion today with you, 

and I hope you will pass it on. 

For I know, 

I am certain, 

I will never leave the arms 

of my love 

as I had before. 

Here eternity lies within eternity, 

a story within a story, 

people linked with people, 

peace, complete peace; 

oneness, 

and want 

complete with this greenness 

where even the sunshine appears to fade... 

...completely away, 

only a clear, sweet melody remains, 

the tune of love. 

My love, 

your love 

can you not see it 

clearly written there 

in the future pages 

of your book, 

a faint rosemary scent. 


Tweet