The Seed

There was a seed
that never responded to life,
Yet in my mind
A tree had grown a lifetime in an hour,
And life provided me
with a memory of a place
I had not been yet,
A place no one saw or believed in
but me.
There was a feeling
of no particular skill,
Just a voice
asking for attention,
But the brain carries its own
form of government,
Making logical decisions
completely void of reality.
The Tree began to wear
the look of no one,
Drawing me into its own pain.
Its branches were the hands
of a hundred crying children,
Feeding the fantasy
with private failures
and sincere hypocrisy,
Immobilizing life
in a prison of its own making.
There was a holding on
beyond the letting go,
There was a moment of returning
on the other side of leaving.
Love wore the face of patience,
but patience was only stubbornness
turned upside down.
And there was proof
against all argument,
and the bleeding…
became internal.
©   DiAnne Ebejer
(an older poem; never posted here before)

About DiAnne Ebejer

I am retired and live on the East coast of Florida where I spend much of my time reading, playing with photography and trying to write some "poetry and then some" at I care deeply about many things and wish there was much more love and compassion in this world today. I also have a part time blog "Thought You Might Like This" used for special projects and occasional things of interest
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2 Responses to The Seed

  1. Uncle Tree says:

    Very, very good, DiAnne! In fact, so good,
    I’ll go as far as saying it’s your best…well,
    I have a new favorite, and it’s this one.

    Peace and luvz, Keith 🙂


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