DISCOVER part I (i was there)

i   w a s   t h e r e
when little 7 year-old jacob andrews
looked up to the esteemed, autumn sky

painted blue on a canvas

of the harvested earth

the sun a golden flame shimmering

with waves of red and orange

the emerald grass, blades cutting through

the cracks of the ancient design

the trees, mahogany tall and thick in their splendor

speaking in their ancient tongue

whispering fictitious tales to each other

he smiled at his old grandpa-pa

with his little lit-up 7 year-old piercing blue eyes

that made even the damnedest souls 

dance in spiritual galore

he smiled back with that half-smile

his old soul dancing in birth
and decay

they stood on solid ground

on the green grass that stretched

for miles on an empty field

the blades of grass weaving and waving

in patterns of puzzles: unsolved

discovering un-discovery 

i   w a s   t h e r e

when little jacob andrews and his

old grandpa-pa stood among

the old trees just listening 

they got down on their knees

and began to dig deep

little jacob andrews held in

his tiny hand a red acorn

and dropped it in the hole

planting a seed of discovery 

i   w a s   t h e r e

when little jacob andrews
watched the little red oak tree grow into 

something not-so-little 

something tremendous and alien

a monster of beauty in form

the branches like arms stretching

towards heaven

he saw his face in that tree
his aspirations, the branches

his heart, the roots

his soul, the autumn leaves

he watched those leaves for many moons

following the reddish-orange fires spread

and float all around the fields

the earth pulling them back towards her

back to the womb from where they came, 

their gravestones will read

he caught one in mid-drift making a wish, 

his eyes piercing into the decaying beauty:
the veins were like a map of the living 

and the dead, 

the wind was like a compass

for the souls

i   w a s   t h e r e
as the tree stood taller than

any tree for miles

in the fall as the furry brown squirrels
stole the red acorns and collected
them for the approaching winter

in the winter, when the white snow

buried the thick, tall oak 

in a blanket of crystalline white

making it look nothing extraordinary

just ordinary like every
snow-covered tree

in the spring when the hummingbird 

discovered the tree and when the 

dandelion seed heads sprouted
up around it, 

when jacob andrews pulled 

one from the ground and blew on it

watching the cotton-like fluff
spread the seeds of dandelion snow

near the big hill in the backyard

that overlooks the little lake

with a small, forested island in it

and a month later when 

the dandelions bloomed, 

jacob andrews uprooted one,
twisting the stem around his finger

pinching the flower with his thumb

and sang momma had a baby and its

head popped off and laughed
as the flower was de-headed by his

prepubescent humor
and when his grandpa-pa

yelled at him for uprooting 

the dandelions because they were 

mother nature’s reminder of

the beautiful mundane things this 

world has to offer

and in the summer jacob andrews

wanted to explore the forested island
so old grandpa-pa

and jacob andrews went on a little

hike carrying wood up that
dandelion-covered hill like jesus christ

carried his cross up mount calvary 

they carried it to that little lake
as little old grandpa-pa was heaving,

his joints aching, his gray hair balding,

with the little life in him,
he wanted to explore with jacob andrews

his brow was dripping with sweat

as he pounded and hammered away

starting a bridge

he stopped, looking at his 

grandson square in the eyes

piercing blue into  piercing

blue, and he told him that

they were selling 3/4ths of the land

that their home was to become

a graveyard

i  w a s  t h e r e 

when jacob andrews threw a fit
and when grandpa-pa smacked

him in the face
and kissed him where he smacked him

saying, “son, graves are homes for
our bodies, and bodies are vessels
for our souls…”
his voice was calm and collect
almost like a song in tune
with the world at this moment
as the sun was spotlighting him

he continued
“sometimes the world brings
gray clouds that turn to thunderstorms

and if you look at the world with gray eyes, 

you will only see it in
shades of gray and you’ll never
see the rainbow in the thunderstorm
because son, sometimes the rain
brings on the blooming”

i  w a s  t h e r e

when grandpa-pa, got up
leaving his work unfinished
and walked over to the tree
kneeling beside it
whispering to it

with his last breath

i  w a s  t h e r e 

when the ancestors and brothers
of the oak tree were dug up
and sacrificed
when the grass become not
just grass but “hair of graves”

and when that oak tree became
haunted with ghosts and lonely,
somber melodies hummed in the wind

i  w a s  t h e r e
when that unfinished bridge
became broken from years
of decay and rotting wood
when jacob andrews’s grandson
jacob andrew the III discovered the
lake, and the tree, and the grass,
and the dandelion

the tree housed many ghosts
that night, as jacob andrews the
I listened to it
but he, magnificent oak,
wasn’t screaming

wasn’t crying
he was laughing

and when jacob andrews
sat down against the tree
he watched it dance naked
under the harvest moon,
stripping red yellow and orange
he listened to him speak old-wives
tales about the dead

and even though jacob andrews
gray hair was sprouting out
of their grave and his eyes cold and
dead, they were still piercing
blue sapphires painting pictures
of a well-lived life

he whispered to the tree
like his grandpa-pa with his last
breath and a leaf unattached itself
like a detached soul soaring through
the stars and heavens and
i  w a s  t h e r e

he was buried at the base of the tree
his gravestone read
back to the womb from where he came

jacob andrews the III grew older,
like the tree,
his body ancient
and the graveyard became
over-crowded
and lively with death

they cut down the old oak tree
and jacob andrews the III and
his grandson bought the wood

i  w a s  t h e r e

when they carried the
wood stained with memories
over the hill to the lake
and built the bridge

that carried them to the other side

discovering un-discovery