“A Ripe Fruit” by Trevor Witt
A ripe fruit,
I am ready to eat,
Juicy, full bodied,
Not firm, but not too mushy.
I am sweet and nutritious…
Yet, soon I will rot,
Growing grey hairs,
With fibrous roots forming,
Ready to plant myself,
In the ground, ready to dissolve my being,
Transforming into a small tree,
Sprouting from the soil,
Ready to birth new seeds,
Ready to grow towards new growth –
Or else to spoil and become consumed,
By bacteria and worms,
I will return,
To the Earth, as a child,
As fresh soil.
“Use Your Words” by Trevor Witt
Use your words,
Grunts and groans,
Scowls and moans,
Furled eyebrows,
And blank stares,
May convey a little feeling,
But they will fall short of a full report.
“Too Tired” by Trevor Witt
Too tired –
To raise my arm.
Instead, I open my hand,
Stretching my fingers,
And close it,
Clenching my fist,
Making sure my neural connections still work.
Too tired
To put a pen in my hand,
To put ink to the page,
To use my thumbs on the keypad of my phone,
To remember the words swirling in my brain –
Verses lost to exhaustion.
Sleep,
My body tells me.
My mind is too weak,
So I must listen,
A nap, a respite,
A little break to renew myself,
And I will not be too tired.
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