Young Writers Society

I'll stretch my arms towards the sky,
and reach for clouds or sun rays,
and maybe slowly, slowly,
I will grow.

I will grow like
sunlight-soaked leaves,
blossoming like golden flowers
in the summer;
I will grow like a wading river,
wearing grooves into the earth
the way we wear grooves
into each other's hearts;
I will grow like a small child,
soft and hopeful,
and I will grow like a sunset,
in that each day, like the sun,
I will rise again.

I have been pushed to the edge
and yet never broken.
I have endured many storms and trials,
but i will never allow myself to be broken.
I will plant my roots in the soil
soak up the nutrients of the earth
and slowly, my roots will take hold
I will sprout from the dirt, rise from the dust.
I will be patient with myself, let myself falter
and slowly, slowly, I will begin to grow.

I will grow
as a mountain
slowly I will
grow my coating
and let the bugs
crawl over me, rejoice
of the thing I have become, yet
it was no thanks to them.
It was they that ate the soil I came from.
But it does not matter I harbor the bugs, the bears
I harbor the very air and sky itself
for I grow
as a mountain.

A mountain indeed,
tall and vast and beautiful;
many climb me in search of God
but they fail to look inside themselves,
fail to see their own icecaps,
their own broken trees and crumbling rock;
God does not exist out in the ether but within the bones
of you and I,
and as we grow we realize that we can destroy them,
eat our gods and grow our own souls,
plant our seeds in the soils of our skins,
nurture the summit that is our brain;
when summer thaws our frozen winters we grow again,
ever and ever and ever growing,
a non-stop process even though mountains
seem as though they are at a standstill.

Though if there is a God,
and sometimes I feel I can almost reach Him
when I stand on my toes -
that God must be somewhere in all the dust -
deep in these soils, where my feet drag.
"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust"
Do you remember how God breathed
life into Adam's nostrils;
a strange divine kiss?
I think I hear God in the wind
in the winter air shaking pine needles
in the bird taking flight.
But, always too far away.
So I hope that I grow,
either to the sky,
or just grow roots into the ground
wherever growing takes me.

Do you ever feel Him?
Screaming silently through the trees,
quaking holiness in the caverns of your heart;
do you hear the way the tree trunks vibrate
and the bird caws, an ever repeating plea
of being prey and being blessed?
The flight of a bird among the sky, wings outstretched,
sunlight streaming through the skull,
a reminder that the one who gives life in one breath kisses
steals it away the same;
when winter passes each year we look not at the corpses,
not at what was taken but what was gifted to us in exchange;
the tree roots among the carcasses,
the barter system of existence,
the hum of eternal heartbeats drumming
like a backdrop against city streets;
do you find God everywhere you go? Do you feel the holiness in your bones?

Though it is not His wind
that cause the changing wind
or the ever shifting tides of my thoughts.
No, that is my own growth
I have out-grown the soil,
the winds of this life,
I will contain only what I want
for I will grow past whatever I need to
even if I need to grow past
the stillness in the ground and how
the trees sway
even if I must grow past being prey and predator,
for I will grow.

I will rise from the ashes
not only will I rise, I will soar
I will fly to new, inconceivable heights
I will use the debris to rebuild myself
stronger than ever before,
I will grow back, stronger for having been broken
I will find love, and I will find God
find Him in the quiet moments in the night,
find Him in the laughter of the day
I will find joy, and I will rise again.

I will scream your name among the walls of Church,
find pieces of myself in the slivers of hardwood floors.
Destruction breeds creation and in the fires of my soul
I will find the dancing images of myself long forgotten;
I will pray and pray and eat and eat and I will grow,
oh how I will grow,
a swelling heart so full of life and love that it feels as though
it will burst, an ever-faster drumming,
the rhythm of begs and pleas and laughter and light and screams
we will break the cycle, rise like the pink horizon of a new day's sky,
we will rise and rise again -
rise until lambs become lions.

We will rise and rise -
and grow and grow -
until these ribs won't hold
this beating heart.
Not a stone will stand unturned,
until these voices pierce the heavens,
from every mountain top,
to the very core of the earth.

I will have the sun
and swallow it whole.