The Dissent

I spend my days in the tops of the trees
Searching the sky for balloons.
But ebbing currents disturb the leaves, part the limbs, and
Disclose the Empty Eyes that haunt from below.

Far underneath the braided canopy
Of twigs and sticks and branches and trunks
Lay a beast that carried me in his mouth
And spit me out on this bit of earth.

A bit of earth that floats,
It floats in a boundless water drop.

I sit in the tops of the trees and dream
Ignoring the earth below and
The beast and the bees and the snakes and the spiders;
I'm lost in a beautiful dream
Imaging a life will come.

A life of floating in coral blimps
Leaving billowing paths behind.
Carried away to land of peace,
Carried to a land of honey.

"Take comfort, my heart, there is no beast
Circling our tree house home, I'll soon be rescued from
Depravity, a beautiful life will come."

The dream inspires endurance

To sojourn the lonesome terrain. 

The dream inspires survival

Upon this abandoned isle.

But the ebbing currents will not be dissuaded
From disturbing the leaves and parting the limbs
Revealing the Empty Eyes,
Revealing my inescapable fate.

I am weary of living in trees.

Scream at the sky for rescue.
Find solace in a prospective balloon.
But I've lost my voice and my hope is squelched in the
Vacuum of space and stars.

Ergo I leave the canopy's cradle
And descend to the cracking boughs.
And there I watch and hope for ships
To beach the water's edge.

But I've seen no vessels dot the sea,
No messengers have come to me.
And yet the beast's Empty Eyes keep watching me,
Though I fix my gaze on the droplet sea.

I am weary of living in trees.

The boughs are breaking, my grip is slipping
And I descend to the twisted roots.
Hidden beneath a lace of tubers,
I reach for any happy truth.

But I feel the Empty Eyes.
They rest upon my figure.
His polished, bared teeth prod through the roots
And my neck is tickled by his breath and dripping saliva.

Peeling bark, shadows and moss
Make poor friends in a room of timber.

I am weary of living in trees.

Weary of wishing for
Balloons and
Ships and
Abstract happy truths.

Weary of hoping for perpetual existence
Away from this bit of earth,

Pretending the beast is slain.

The roots crack, they break apart.
As I climb from my woody cage.
I press my toes in the mud and sand
Taking my stance on the tangled floor.

Lungs expand with organic breath
Breaths of active life, of
Thriving briers,
Flowering groves to
Decaying logs and swine.
My diaphragm sups vitality and I
Grip my dukes for a fight.

A blow to my back rips my flesh to the spine
Knocking the breath clear out of my chest.

I'm slammed to the floor by his
Solid paws and
Thunder crashes out his jaw
Blasting my face with rotting blood
Fangs gaping and unhinged.

Locking the gaze of the
Empty Eyes with my
Deep Blue Eyes
I glimpse in the back of his skull,
Nothing.

A sickening silent stare,

Then I scream:
"I'll not live in fear of you!"

He gruffs a laugh in reply.

But I cry:

"You brought me here!

"You may take me away! But

"I'll make my life my own!"

I'll make my life my own.

Ripping my shoulders from under his claws
Digging my nails deep into the earth I
drag my body out from under his weight and
I run.

Looking back at the beast he circles and
Parades his coat of striped citrus and ink
Unobstructed by branches and leaves.

Satisfied by acknowledged existence

That I accepted my inevitable fate

The Empty Eyes disappear in the shadows

Preparing a capricious pounce.

And I am not afraid,

But pleased

He let me live this long.

Light toes and quick feet propel my frame
To the peak of the highest sierra.
Sinks my heels in fresh mud on the apex
As I drink in the panoramic realm of
Thick wild trees,
Clear open lakes,
Deep foreboding canyons,
Cruel icy crests,
The beast, and
Me
All floating on an endless water drop.

And bleating to the whole of the earth
I cry,
"My home!
I'm home."

I construct a cozy cottage
With wide picture windows
And bask in sherbet sunsets,
Gulp liters from springlets,
Delight in sugary pears,
Tend the broken wings of blue jays,
Holiday on the beach's carpet,
And scale and climb the trees.

I weep in the bitter, harsh storms;
I bleed when thorns snag my flesh;
My body wrinkles and ages with time.
I absorb the harsh contrast of life,

Searching the stars for reply.

But whether I'm rescued by ship or balloon,
Or devoured by an Empty-Eyed tiger,
I will savor my brief existence.
I will make my life my own.

And I will create bare-handed
For myself and all folk
And for all who will ever proceed
A life filled with strawberries and smiles and peace,
The life I imagined would come.

The life I imagined would come
When I lived in the tops of the trees.