Waiting for Geppetto:
I stand in this forest, stretch toward light, even blind I can see;
my leaves - the fractured eyes of a green Mayfly - watch
for your coming. Like Odin, I dangle, see glimpses of all that may be;
hope my mind is strong enough to recall the vision. Like Christ I wait
to be cut down and, by clever hands and tools, shaped to fit your image.
The kiss of blade to sever me forever from the earth; to separate
trunk from roots so my nightmares radiate with the darkness of soil.
The bark to be pealed free; clothes no longer needed - fed to the coals
while your rough hands take coarse paper and knives and search
for me within the grain - set me free and bind me to this new form.
Forever at your debt; my words spoken at your mercy.
My acts, vibrations at your beck and call.
Yet somehow I must find my own footsteps, break from the love
and demands you will place upon me to find that I alone am real -
you merely a dream I once had while my branches swayed in a storm
and the fear of death by lightning overcame me. Life is a terrible distance
to fall. I wait for the kiss of your axe and the plunge into my humanity.