I open the pomegranate
the way I open myself,
too fast
and with the tender sound of surrender
The counter is jeweled
with its red, unruly heart
Seeds spill out
bright, eager truths
I never mean to scatter,
before I think to wait
I tell myself to take them slow,
one by one,
but I never do.
Greedy, I want the whole sweetness at once,
the way I want closeness
before I’ve earned calm,
before I’ve measured space
Oversharing and its bitter aftertaste
The empty cracks stare at me in silence I now face
But then,
someone tastes the sweetness anyway,
unbothered by the stain.
And I remember
that nothing honest stays contained
So, I keep returning to this fruit I savor,
letting it color my fingers
and my autumn afternoons.
Letting it teach me again
that the self was made to be messy,
and quietly loved as leaves catching golden hues
I rinse the cutting board,
find stains that will fade in their own time,
hoping the light in me
lands gently
in someone’s hands.
Image Credit: Pinterest