something amazing after last night's crazy
If you have ever enjoyed poetry, watch/read this poem. It is gorgeous. There are no words for how beautiful this is.
We Forgot What Trees Whispered
She told me that she sometimes whispers to the sky
but she doesn’t know if she should call it praying
because she doesn’t know if anything really hears her.
She asked me if I ever mistake hopes for beliefs.
Or things that are truth for things that I just want to hear.
Or if I ever think too much about things that I know I wont ever figure out
and why
do so many of us decide
to just not believe in things we don’t understand
when our knowledge of everything around us is like a grain of sand
and this world holding us
is the beach
and her questions floated off her lips like smoke
and into the air above us like halos
resembling how innocent they were.
And I said,
Emily,
we all go to bed with questions
that have answers too big for our minds ability to hold them.
But I sometimes like to imagine that when we were born
we had all the answers to the universe
and each second that went by after was a secret we forgot.
And we were all born with lungs that didn’t know how to breathe
and that first breath we took brought us closer to dying
and each day we lost more
and more
of that God inside of us
and we forgot what trees whispered to us.
We forgot what a thousand harps sound like
when the angels would play music
to the poems we spoke when we
were infants.
We
were empty.
And our hearts would puddle raindrops
before we filled ourselves with too many bricks
and we were bowls made of glass.
We became human when the world fed us too much of itself.
And I said,
Emily,
most times
I’m a monsoon waiting for a farmer’s prayer to soften me,
a wolf waiting for a moon,
a lonely wind waiting for a kite to dance with.
I’m most times just waiting for a reason to breathe again.
I’ve counted stars
for each time the night has kissed me open beneath her breath
and filled me with sparrows,
with smoke,
with clouds too heavy to see if the waiting hands of God
have collected the ember of my prayers
that I sent off the fading fires of my tongue
but the sky
isn’t big enough to hold as many stars to match it to.
And Emily,
I’ve asked myself too many times
if tornados are really just trying to find a place to glide across
but if they just don’t know their own strength.
If they just don’t know how fragile those fields are holding them.
Their legs
are just too heavy
like my heart
is just too heavy.
I’m still trying to find a chest that can hold this heart that I have
because this heartbeat that I have
hurts too much.
See my passion.
This world can throw me at those bricks like an ally way kiss in the rain.
Like a wrecking ball.
Like a fist.
I’ll make a swing set of my back
so that I can come right back to them.
Do it again if they must,
it’ll just be the same.
I wont stop hitting those bricks until those walls
know my name.
We were all
given reasons to bleed.
So Emily,
believe me when I say
I’ve opened my arms to the storm,
my hands to the coal,
My eyes to the smoke,
I’ve let the smoke swallow me.
This world has fed my cuts to the salt,
my mouth to the blade,
I’ve offered my wrists
to those rusted nails.
All of this
just to want to feel the rain
even more.
I’ve opened my pores
like canyons
so that they may catch those falling raindrops
to disguise my tears
but I promise you I’m not crying,
I’m just allowing them to find the right beauty to fall with
and to find their way back to the ocean.
And Emily,
we all have too many questions
that will never be answered
but some things just have to be left untouched.
That’s why our hands
are too small to hold the moon
but our eyes
somehow hold it for us.
The same way our eyes
hold those same tears
moving towards the music they were born from.
And Emily,
I promise you
that if you listen to those waves
you’ll hear the same music as you did in the womb
back when you might have known everything.
Let the ocean cradle you in its movements.
On nights when I need to get away,
you can most times
find me there.
-Shawn Franco
http://shawnfranco.tumblr.com/
Click to viewWe Forgot What Trees Whispered
She told me that she sometimes whispers to the sky
but she doesn’t know if she should call it praying
because she doesn’t know if anything really hears her.
She asked me if I ever mistake hopes for beliefs.
Or things that are truth for things that I just want to hear.
Or if I ever think too much about things that I know I wont ever figure out
and why
do so many of us decide
to just not believe in things we don’t understand
when our knowledge of everything around us is like a grain of sand
and this world holding us
is the beach
and her questions floated off her lips like smoke
and into the air above us like halos
resembling how innocent they were.
And I said,
Emily,
we all go to bed with questions
that have answers too big for our minds ability to hold them.
But I sometimes like to imagine that when we were born
we had all the answers to the universe
and each second that went by after was a secret we forgot.
And we were all born with lungs that didn’t know how to breathe
and that first breath we took brought us closer to dying
and each day we lost more
and more
of that God inside of us
and we forgot what trees whispered to us.
We forgot what a thousand harps sound like
when the angels would play music
to the poems we spoke when we
were infants.
We
were empty.
And our hearts would puddle raindrops
before we filled ourselves with too many bricks
and we were bowls made of glass.
We became human when the world fed us too much of itself.
And I said,
Emily,
most times
I’m a monsoon waiting for a farmer’s prayer to soften me,
a wolf waiting for a moon,
a lonely wind waiting for a kite to dance with.
I’m most times just waiting for a reason to breathe again.
I’ve counted stars
for each time the night has kissed me open beneath her breath
and filled me with sparrows,
with smoke,
with clouds too heavy to see if the waiting hands of God
have collected the ember of my prayers
that I sent off the fading fires of my tongue
but the sky
isn’t big enough to hold as many stars to match it to.
And Emily,
I’ve asked myself too many times
if tornados are really just trying to find a place to glide across
but if they just don’t know their own strength.
If they just don’t know how fragile those fields are holding them.
Their legs
are just too heavy
like my heart
is just too heavy.
I’m still trying to find a chest that can hold this heart that I have
because this heartbeat that I have
hurts too much.
See my passion.
This world can throw me at those bricks like an ally way kiss in the rain.
Like a wrecking ball.
Like a fist.
I’ll make a swing set of my back
so that I can come right back to them.
Do it again if they must,
it’ll just be the same.
I wont stop hitting those bricks until those walls
know my name.
We were all
given reasons to bleed.
So Emily,
believe me when I say
I’ve opened my arms to the storm,
my hands to the coal,
My eyes to the smoke,
I’ve let the smoke swallow me.
This world has fed my cuts to the salt,
my mouth to the blade,
I’ve offered my wrists
to those rusted nails.
All of this
just to want to feel the rain
even more.
I’ve opened my pores
like canyons
so that they may catch those falling raindrops
to disguise my tears
but I promise you I’m not crying,
I’m just allowing them to find the right beauty to fall with
and to find their way back to the ocean.
And Emily,
we all have too many questions
that will never be answered
but some things just have to be left untouched.
That’s why our hands
are too small to hold the moon
but our eyes
somehow hold it for us.
The same way our eyes
hold those same tears
moving towards the music they were born from.
And Emily,
I promise you
that if you listen to those waves
you’ll hear the same music as you did in the womb
back when you might have known everything.
Let the ocean cradle you in its movements.
On nights when I need to get away,
you can most times
find me there.
-Shawn Franco
http://shawnfranco.tumblr.com/