{"sf1_id":1347771,"sf2_id":"bebLbpOn","title":"Growth","author":"makyo","words":897,"posted_at":"2018-07-01T17:27:00.000Z","tags":["Experimental","Poetry"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1347771-growth","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/bebLbpOn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/89/d2/89d29396-b710-446c-b5f0-d2baef527678","description":"#13 of Poetry\n\nA longer piece to go with this lovely painting by Cadmium Tea (http://furaff.net/cadmiumtea - https://www.patreon.com/Cadmiumtea), which I commissioned for the end of an era. The image of transformation is from a recurring dream.","content":"Used to be you and I daily would walk  \nthrough the fields out back of the house and talk  \nfor hours, spilling words and emotions.  \nThese walks were our daily devotions  \nto each other over the years.  \n  \nThe fields, dotted with ponds, were our space.  \nWe tramped those trails strung like lace  \nalong shores and through tall grass,  \nmurmuring now like winds, chattering now like brass  \nin some changeful duet.  \n  \nYou'd tell me about the geese in the sky,  \nwould watch me stand still and not ask why  \nthe birds scared me to pieces,  \neven as we dodged around their feces  \nlittering the trails.  \n  \nYou'd put up with my fickle interests,  \nrunning with me, or stopping to see what arrests  \nmy attention. You'd follow all of my changes  \nand change along with me through all the ranges  \nof our shared experience.  \n  \nYou'd tell me of your meditation,  \nI'd talk of my fears of stagnation.  \nYou'd always smile so kindly to me,  \nand I'd always feel so free  \nin our companionship.  \n  \nAnd over time, those walks got slower,  \nshorter, less frequent, or over  \nfar too soon, though no less meaningful  \nas we spent our time together in cheerful  \nconversation or kind quiet.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; We each seemed to be going our separate ways,  \nwith me branching out, exploring different lays  \nof different lands, and you turning inwards,  \nexploring lines of thought you never put in words,  \nat least not that you told me.  \n  \nAnd then one day, we once more went out walking  \nand though it took a while, you got to talking.  \nYou told me of how you sat, quiet and alone,  \nwaiting for the time you might turn to stone  \nand be completely still at last.  \n  \nYou told me how as you sat, the room lengthened,  \ncurved around, turned on you --- strengthened,  \nit seemed, by your very presence ---  \nand amid all of that gathered pleasance,  \nbit you in half.  \n  \nYou told me how, as part of you died  \nin that moment, the rest of you spied,  \nit seemed, on this very ending.  \nYou told me you thought that this rending  \nwas the end of something big.  \n  \nI listened in silence. What could I say?  \nThe things you were telling me, walking that day  \nwere strangely shaped and didn't make sense.  \nOr if they did, they did so around corners as pretense,  \nperhaps, subtext, allusion, metaphor.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; You were right, though, I could hear it in your voice.  \nThere was finality, there, which spoke of a choice  \nalready made. Endings were writ on your face,  \nyour hands, and your steps --- your very pace  \nspoke of completion.  \n  \nI replied to that sense rather than your words.  \n\"While you look up to the geese and see only birds,  \nI see omens and my doom spelled in vees.  \nYou speak of rooms and cleaving, but please,  \ntell me, are you leaving?\"  \n  \nWe'd long since stopped, there by the pond,  \nand your smile was, yes, sad, but still fond  \nas you settled down wordlessly to your knees,  \ntook a slow breath, looked out to the trees,  \nand closed your eyes.  \n  \nBeginnings are such delicate times  \nand I very nearly missed it, no chimes  \nto announce the hour of your leaving.  \nAs it was, there was no time for believing  \nor not in the next moments.  \n  \nYour fingers crawled beneath the soil  \nand sprouted roots, flesh starting to roil.  \nCoarse bark spiraled up your wrists and arms,  \nSpelling subtle incantations and charms  \nto the chaos of growth.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; You bowed your head and from your crown  \nsprouted a tender shoot, covered in fine down  \nsoon followed by crenelated leaves and fine stems.  \nThe pace was fast, implacable, and leaves like gems  \nsoon arched skyward.  \n  \nYou sprouted and grew, taking root  \nin one smooth motion, fixed and mute.  \nYour clothing fell away, rotting in fast-time.  \nNaked now, you sat still, committing one last crime  \nof indecency.  \n  \nYour face, your face! In your face was such peace  \nas I'd never seen, even as you gave up this lease  \non life, echoed also in my heart of hearts.  \nI did not cry out, nor even speak, witnessing such arts  \nas your final display showed.  \n  \nSoon, you were consumed, transformed as a whole.  \nYour head a crown of leaves, your heart a bole  \nbored in rough bark and sturdy wood,  \nyour fingers, knees, and toes stood  \nas thirsty roots.  \n  \nI stood a while by the tree that was you,  \nthen sat at your roots and thought of all I knew  \nabout time, transformation, death and change.  \nI thought about you, your life, your emotional range,  \nyour gentle apotheosis.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; Then I walked home, quiet and numb.  \nNo, not numb, per se, but perhaps dumb.  \nDumb of words, dumb of emotions. Quiet.  \nI expected turmoil, some internal riot,  \nI got nullity.  \n  \nWho, after all, if I cried out,  \nwould hear my wordless shout  \namong the still trees and rustling leaves?  \nWho hears? Who cares? Who perceives  \nthis non-grief?  \n  \nYou, my friend, are still there.  \nI walk the fields every day, passing where  \nyou changed into something new.  \nI marvel at you, at how you grew  \ninto something wholly different.  \n  \nUsed to be you and I daily would walk  \nthrough the fields out back of the house and talk.  \nNow, it's just me, alone, quiet, thinking  \nof you by the shore, forever drinking  \nof sweet water.  \n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"Poetry","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1335639-post-op-images.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/1347824-beneath-her-coat-was-a-whole-identity.json"}}