The Seedlings: a Mental Health Poem
by Prathami
Grow with me,
I too have
Just awoken
From the marshy sleeps
That sick minds fall into,
I am emblazoned in flame now,
I deal in life easily
As a tree does my oxygen -
I herald the coming of a new Era,
The Age of Health.
I am blaspheming, I revolt
The constructs of the mind,
I am who I set out to be,
The darling ducks will
Peck at you, forgive them,
They are but quackers.
One day, you will realize with me
The Truths I have been chasing,
A portrait of glory and pain.
I set clear these contours,
These outlines as how the spoons
And knives must behave to the world;
They cannot curve around,
They cannot banter, they must
Only serve as animal labor -
The house is empty of warmth,
There is only the deep sigh of disturbance
The air is so cool and settled, the dust
Hanging like witches, suspended.
What mystical sense do I presume of this?
I don't know, it is not important.
I only know that I am rising,
I am being lifted a lamp,
I shall speak;
My teeth shall separate, and
Out rolls dawn,
The language of flowers.