Making It – A Poem by Patrick Jordan
Watch me
push my way
to the top.
I’ll reach for the sky,
all green and happy
sun on my skin.
Watch me
push my way
to the top.
I’ll reach for the sky,
all green and happy
sun on my skin.
My mother’s plants flourished in our garden
her azaleas and jasmine bloomed
in the spring following her death
from their vulnerable transplanted state
they prospered and assumed new prominence
with stronger roots and assured strong contours,
like my mother, I love to nurture,
I delight in signs of new growth.
I wrote a poem
about you, little
girl.
With your smile
that says leave
me alone.
With your expression
that says I am
over this.
Someday you will
become a woman
and know
the errors
of all these ways.
A single jade leaf can make a new plant,
transforming the soil, light and water
into new roots, stems and leaves.
I’ve seen it so many times before
yet I still marvel at a single leaf,
commonplace, splendid, wise,
only plants grow silently.
They say I am a lost
soul, but I know where
I am,
have not been lost
for a long time.
I am located on this spot
where I will wait
for the dawn.
Made real
this person I crave to be
no longer swept away
by injurious words
the small frame of views
from others
no longer defined by
criticism, that easy art
practiced in the absence
of real action, of creation
made real.
I will not
go all the way
around the
world
just to circle
back to the
person I was
doing what
I always did.
Don’t know
why
I used to find
this funny
now some
sights
only make
me
cringe
gritting my
teeth.
A nightmare amphibian
studded with eggs
she sheds her skin
to do it all again,
reminding me I have
my own shedding to do.
Step here
Look here
break a rule
now and then
find a boundary
cross it
when the time
seems ripe.