Fertile Fields ~ Philip Brent Harris
~~~~~
Bartholomew Mathew
Cannot decide.
Tangled in social metaphor,
Smiling, snide remarks,
Too-knowing asides.
Yearns for freedom
From his shabby garret.
His plush penthouse.
Can he escape.
Fly away,
With but a single try?
Ensnared in darkness,
His shadow’s umbra
Anticipates crisis,
Steps and turns,
Life’s dance marathon,
His daily rumba,
Sudden, explosive.
Will he be
Still standing,
Can he win the prize,
Without taking a chance?
Misunderstood
Costume party,
Masked, no invitation,
With reservations.
No exit appears.
Then,
Shock, surprise
Stabs, strikes
His eyes;
Sparkling shards,
Glitter ball reflections.
What can he see?
Blindfolded, he
Teeters, balances.
Friable soil crumbles.
He stumbles, stops,
Opens his eyes
To rescue himself,
Beholds
His sweetly-mirrored
Self. Vision echoes
His smile.
Quietly she stands,
Contained, alone.
Her radiance
Illuminates
Unknown terrain.
Vast expanse,
Varnished loft floor
Too slippery
For his steps.
He turns away;
She weeps.
He stays. Backward glance
Reveals sparkling eyes,
Beckoning.
What odds, his reckoning,
A raging tango,
Swiftly-flowing,
Fandango, complex,
Careful quick steps.
He skirts
Dense quicksand
Pile of the carpet.
Sticky barroom floors,
Crackling peanut shells
Snap underfoot.
He pauses,
Noticed,
Exposed
To unknown,
Unseen dangers,
Strangers,
Until
She becomes light.
Transfixed, he stands,
Understands
How she is bathed
In bright sun’s rays
On the darkest night.
In pearlescent moonbeams,
In deep-desert noon,
Impossibility of unraveling
His Gordian knot,
No equations,
Calculations.
He reaches out.
She stands so near,
As close as galaxies,
As far away as
Love’s first kiss.
His, the decision,
Risk to try.
Does he, can he
Dare the outcome.
Their gazes lock
And, in one leap,
He is free.
~~~~~
Peace is Purpose, Nonviolence is Strength, Diversity is Unity, Empathy is Empowerment
~~~~~
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