A TREE SPEAKS TO THE RAIN

Lay me bare. Strip me of my leaves, green innocence,
As I struggle to grow, to breathe in this pain,
Eat at my heart!- my disease. My pestilence. 
 
Wet hard bones, brown and cold- do I tempt you again?
Naked, glistening, arms outstretched to an unseeing sky.
You whore. Cleanse me, then! -your insanity keeps me sane
 
Through your strange sadistic pleasures. I do not cry
Beat me livid till I’m numb, whiplashes on my face
My veins turn black but I do not bleed. Frozen like my soul, my
 
Yellow blood has hardened- and my skin cracks in place,
Peels in stiff brown pieces, but I do not bleed. Your hate in slivers
Slice through me, cutting me clean. I sway, breathless, in a daze
 
Of searing pain. And you flow through me in rivers,
In torrents, floods, glorious inundation of self-hate, quivering
In my wearied pores, creeping into my roots- O Life-giver! 
 
 
In the amber light after your storm I stand shivering
under a gray sky, swollen with your soul.
 
 
But I grow from you.
I grow from you.
 
and, beaten, 
broken, 
ravished by your hate,
I break into flower
with flourish.

Pawan Madri Kalugala
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