Andrew Chavez

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The Pomegranate

I have seen the things they call beautiful,
And I have held it in my hands.
For what we have seen here,
Falls short on supply, but has demand.

I know she has been here.
She will walk along these paths I have made.
I have no more need to fear
Pulling alongside the ropes that cover Life’s window shade.
She doesn’t make mistakes.
Oh, no, but she makes…Promises.
An empty-handed thief, a friend left optionless.

The pomegranate can be raised from seed, but it may not come true.
Cutting roots and plants easily from them, her and I will bear fruit.
The smell of pomegranate will haunt my dreams forever.
But it’s a good thing knowing; because it’s the kind of fruit that can breathe our air.

I feel amazed in her splendor, and I can see that
Only the most powerful flowers will sprout from her footsteps.
Picking the one most beautiful, she will give it to the lifeless.
While touching their cheek, they will altogether rise.
The flowers may be solitary, or grouped in two’s and three’s
All at the ends of these branches
As we will be.

As she sees only us,
We’ll take part in the Season’s dances.

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