I THINK THAT I SHALL NEVER SEE (BECAUSE YOUR LOVE HAS BLINDED ME)
I think that I shall never see, because your love has blinded me--
Grew gradually at first, and then, with pointed words like sticks jammed in,
stuck quick and sunk into my skin; It made its mark on me.
In bending down and bending deep, I tripped (it seems) and cut my knees--
And you saw fit to plant your seed, which grew (things grow) into a tree.
Its roots too deep for me to reach, I clawed its base and grasped at weeds.
Then tired, tried my best to humor agricultural need.
But now it’s tall, and growing still.
Birds may have nests--I cannot see.
And this gut-trunk is hurting me. I feel it start to bleed.
I’m rendered weak, too limp to lift
an axe to chop or knife to clip.
I wonder, then, what happens when I’m ultimately freed;
When form is fixed, and seed is spent—
And noises cease—
What happens then?
Would you, with yours, begin again?
I think that I shall never see.
You took me fast when I was green.
Juliette Faraone studied digital media and film at St. Mary-of-the-Woods College before earning her BA in comparative literature. She is the founder and editor of CNCPT/LSBN and a staff writer for ScreenQueens. In her spare time, Juliette watches Youtube clips from old musicals and bites her lips. Her writing can be found here.