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Poetry of Life Poet
Poems Submitted by Kathy Lynn Morgan
"TRUE COLORS"
"TRUE COLORS"
I wrote this poem for one of my closest friends, and is basically my
interpretation of his life story..It was my gift to him for his first sobriety
birthday, and it was read at his N/A birthday celebration. I wrote this during a
particular positive period in my life, I was very centered and focused. Wrote
this in less than an hour, in one sitting, words came easily and out of nowhere,
certainly not from me.>
To understand the poem, you need to know his life story.
Here is my nutshell version: born to two people who fought like cats and dogs
24/7. @ 14 he started using drugs to cope, parent's caught his addiction in the
very early stages. He was sent to a treatment center, and did well. But instead
of allowing him to come home, his parent's shipped him off to this long-term
teen recovery program. They thought is was a good place for him, but that was an
illusion. It was actually a place where child abuse was
practiced daily and con't - all in the name of Recovery. He was locked down like
an animal every night for 2 years, and tormented for appox 12-14 hours every
day. Finally, he gave up, tried to kill his self repeatedly. They sent him to a
mental hospital, he did the same there, just mutilated his self, over and over,
really tried to die.
But the miracle happened - he was sent to us. "Us" was the
long term halfway house I was in, called the PINK house. @ the house, there was
only 4 of us there when he arrived. WE were an interesting group, one had spent
half his life in prison, still pretty angry...the 2nd was my friend Maureen, a
traditional herra woman, still looking for Mr. Right to come save her, even though
she was in her 50's, 3rd was a young Dead Head, whose brain was just fried from
LSD, and there was me. I refer to myself in the poem, as the soft-flowing willow
"who was all shades of blue".
When he was first brought to us- I thought- what
in the HELL has been done to this child, he was only 15, so damaged. But, slowly
he began connecting back to his self, and oh how he has bloomed. I guess I would
have to admit, that I trust him more than any other person on this earth. He
lives the practice of unconditional love and acceptance..... Hope you enjoy the poem......
"TRUE COLORS"
On a bright sunny day,
the tiny seedling works diligently
to free himself from the hard ground.
And finally he succeeds.
As his head pops through the earth
he joyfully exclaims
"It's me and I'm wonderful!"
But the he she trees barely notice,
for they are locked in a bitter feud with one another.
But the little one is unperturbed.
And with the unrealistic optimism of youth,
He believes in time,
They will see,
What a marvelous little tree he is.
His roots strongly grasp the ground,
And he begins to grow.
He looks at the world with curiosity & wonder,
And he sings, laughs, and runs.
Time passes.
And the heshe trees never notice him,
For their feud has escalated in to a war.
And the long years of constant tension,
begin to take their toll.
The young tree, who sees the heshe trees as all-perfect,
begins to feel guilty.
And he says
"THEY'RE MUST BE SOMETHING WRONG WITH ME."
And he feels sad and alone,
As he reaches his teenage years.
But then one day,
he discovers the magic potion,
and when he drinks it, he again feels happy and free.
But the magic potion was deceiving,
for it caused him to stop growing,
And was slowly killing him inside.
And the other teenage saplings
began to sprout their branches and leaves,
As their branches and leaves distinguished them from one another.
But he did not grow any branches or leaves,
And in his confusion,
He consumed more and more of the magic potion.
His roots became weak,
He became despondent,
And felt very, very lost.
The he she trees finally noticed his negativity,
And they ripped him from his roots,
and roughly transplanted him south,
To an apparent tropical paradise of healing,
Governed by majestic iguanas.
Relieved of their guilt,
the he she trees left him there,
And returned to their obsession
of destroying one another.
The paradise was a facade,
For it was really a wretched cesspool.
And the iguanas were chameleons,
who turned into evil sewer rats.
The young tree felt trapped,
And vented his rage on the sewer rats,
who, in turn,
responded gleefully
with a rage
a hundred times the strength of his own.
His bark became brittle and dark,
And his spirit became bent and broken.
Completely defeated,
he turns his rage inward,
And veers onto the path of self-mutilation.
Until he was just hanging on by a tiny root of hope.
Despair overcame him,
And one day
he just let go...
BUT, at that precise moment,
God blew him a kiss,
And he was gently carried on the winds of change.
And he landed in a grove of soft-flowing willows,
surrounded by a billowy pink cloud.
He had never seen willows such as these:
One was all shades of blue,
another gentle florals,
another fiery red with fading black and white stripes,
And one was even tied-dyed.
The soft-flowing willows
reached out with their branches,
and anchored the broken little tree to the ground.
And they said:
"You are SO beautiful!
You are loved...
And you are home."
The shattered little tree felt undeserving,
But the soft-flowing willows
Smiled knowingly,
For they ALL had arrived
Just as broken as he.
And they nurtured and supported him,
And patiently waited for the transformation...
Another miracle occurred,
For the he she trees stopped fighting,
And they nurtured and supported him as well.
He started to take root,
And slowly his branches began to grow.
And his leaves were bold and bright,
deep colors of magenta,
neon-green,
and electric-blue.
And they had a quality different from the other willows,
for his leaves were florescent,
giving him the ability
To shine
Through the darkness of uncertainty.
He was so grateful to the soft willows,
but they knew
That THEY were the ones
that were given the gift.
For thru him,
they were able to experience
The curiosity and spontaneity of youth.
One day,
God blows another chosen one a kiss,
And, he too lands
In the grove of soft-flowing willows,
Surrounded by the billowy pink cloud of God.
And the broken tree
Looks in awe,
As the majestic fluorescent willow,
Reaches out with his branches,
And gently anchors the chosen one to the ground,
And says:
"You are SO beautiful!
You are loved...
And you are home."
The end.
Kathy Lynn Morgan
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