hugo site

content/post/growth.md

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+---
+categories:
+- Poem
+ratings: G
+description: A longer piece to go with this lovely painting by Julian Norwood (https://www.patreon.com/Cadmiumtea), which I commissioned for the end of an era. The image of transformation is from a recurring dream.
+img: growth-header.jpg
+type: post
+date: 2018-07-01
+tags:
+- Poetry
+- Gender
+- Transition
+- About furry
+title: Growth
+---
+
+![Growth](/assets/img/growth.jpg)
+
+<small>"Growth" by <a href="https://www.patreon.com/Cadmiumtea">Julian Norwood</a></small>
+
+-----
+
+<div class="verse">
+Used to be you and I daily would walk
+through the fields out back of the house and talk
+for hours, spilling words and emotions.
+These walks were our daily devotions
+to each other over the years.
+
+The fields, dotted with ponds, were our space.
+We tramped those trails strung like lace
+along shores and through tall grass,
+murmuring now like winds, chattering now like brass
+in some changeful duet.
+
+You'd tell me about the geese in the sky,
+would watch me stand still and not ask why
+the birds scared me to pieces,
+even as we dodged around their feces
+littering the trails.
+
+You'd put up with my fickle interests,
+running with me, or stopping to see what arrests
+my attention. You'd follow all of my changes
+and change along with me through all the ranges
+of our shared experience.
+
+You'd tell me of your meditation,
+I'd talk of my fears of stagnation.
+You'd always smile so kindly to me,
+and I'd always feel so free
+in our companionship.
+
+And over time, those walks got slower,
+shorter, less frequent, or over
+far too soon, though no less meaningful
+as we spent our time together in cheerful
+conversation or kind quiet.
+
+We each seemed to be going our separate ways,
+with me branching out, exploring different lays
+of different lands, and you turning inwards,
+exploring lines of thought you never put in words,
+at least not that you told me.
+
+And then one day, we once more went out walking
+and though it took a while, you got to talking.
+You told me of how  you sat, quiet and alone,
+waiting for the time you might turn to stone
+and be completely still at last.
+
+You told me how as you sat, the room lengthened,
+curved around, turned on you --- strengthened,
+it seemed, by your very presence ---
+and amid all of that gathered pleasance,
+bit you in half.
+
+You told me how, as part of you died
+in that moment, the rest of you spied,
+it seemed, on this very ending.
+You told me you thought that this rending
+was the end of something big.
+
+I listened in silence. What could I say?
+The things you were telling me, walking that day
+were strangely shaped and didn't make sense.
+Or if they did, they did so around corners as pretense,
+perhaps, subtext, allusion, metaphor.
+
+You were right, though, I could hear it in your voice.
+There was finality, there, which spoke of a choice
+already made. Endings were writ on your face,
+your hands, and your steps --- your very pace
+spoke of completion.
+
+I replied to that sense rather than your words.
+"While you look up to the geese and see only birds,
+I see omens and my doom spelled in vees.
+You speak of rooms and cleaving, but please,
+tell me, are you leaving?"
+
+We'd long since stopped, there by the pond,
+and your smile was, yes, sad, but still fond
+as you settled down wordlessly to your knees,
+took a slow breath, looked out to the trees,
+and closed your eyes.
+
+Beginnings are such delicate times
+and I very nearly missed it, no chimes
+to announce the hour of your leaving.
+As it was, there was no time for believing
+or not in the next moments.
+
+Your fingers crawled beneath the soil
+and sprouted roots, flesh starting to roil.
+Coarse bark spiraled up your wrists and arms,
+Spelling subtle incantations and charms
+to the chaos of growth.
+
+You bowed your head and from your crown
+sprouted a tender shoot covered in fine down,
+soon followed by crenelated leaves and fine stems.
+The pace was fast, implacable, and leaves like gems
+soon arched skyward.
+
+You sprouted and grew, taking root
+in one smooth motion, fixed and mute.
+Your clothing fell away, rotting in fast-time.
+Naked now, you sat still, committing one last crime
+of indecency.
+
+Your face, your face! In your face was such peace
+as I'd never seen, even as you gave up this lease
+on life, echoed also in my heart of hearts.
+I did not cry out, nor even speak, witnessing such arts
+as your final display showed.
+
+Soon, you were consumed, transformed as a whole.
+Your head a crown of leaves, your heart a bole
+bored in rough bark and sturdy wood,
+your fingers, knees, and toes stood
+as thirsty roots.
+
+I stood a while by the tree that was you,
+then sat at your roots and thought of all I knew
+about time, transformation, death and change.
+I thought about you, your life, your emotional range,
+your gentle apotheosis.
+
+Then I walked home, quiet and numb.
+No, not numb, per se, but perhaps dumb.
+Dumb of words, dumb of emotions. Quiet.
+I expected turmoil, some internal riot,
+I got nullity.
+
+Who, after all, if I cried out,
+would hear my wordless shout
+among the still trees and rustling leaves?
+Who hears? Who cares? Who perceives
+this non-grief?
+
+You, my friend, are still there.
+I walk the fields every day, passing where
+you changed into something new.
+I marvel at you, at how you grew
+into something wholly different.
+
+Used to be you and I daily would walk
+through the fields out back of the house and talk.
+Now, it's just me, alone, quiet, thinking
+of you by the shore, forever drinking
+of sweet water.
+</div>