Where Words Meet Souls

 A searching man,

stands before a date palm.​

​

His aches, pangs driven by a craving

he can neither name nor ignore.

Bellowing fire within spreads;

the desert carrying whispers

of his defeat.

​He repeatedly

fails to find a single stable footing

on the vascular bundles of trunk.

The fibers mock his efforts,

unyielding under his weight.

Eventually, he finds away to lift his entire body,

clinging to the coarse surface.

​

His hands,

begin to bleed red

as they dig

into the trees thick bark,

a purposeful grip.

The gritty filth

of the unkempt palm

clings to him,

but he presses on, undeterred.

The winds deep shriek whips up sand,

clouding his centered vision.

​

Above,

territorial starlings

peck into his scalp,

the sharpness tearing

into his skin.

Their jabs and beatings threaten his hold,

yet each thorn, each blow,

teaches him of his fragility,

reminding him of his will.

​

He wonders if the date fruit will even quench his appetite,

‘perhaps I should carry on my travels—

there will be more for me to taste along the way’.

​

He denies it, he has endured so very much

to reach here, he cannot simply walk away.

dirt-caked fingernails scraped

against the jagged trunk,

each grain threatening his strength as it faltered.

His chest burned

with the weight

of an uncontainable desire,

a fire that both drove him upward

and threatened to consume him whole.

​

At last,

upon reaching the crown of the palm

he tastes heaven itself.

misty sunlight,

enough to heal every fault

of his parched lips.

So ecstatic he cannot contain

the weight of its sweetness,

he must share this!

​

He cannot just stay here,

though weary he resolves

to bring this perfection home,

enlighten his lovers-

remind them of their beauty.

Such a blessing it is,

to share the bounties of such a ripe gift,

He who held the world in his palm.