Palm Trees in the Wind — a poem for Britney Spears
My girlfriend and I spent most of Saturday watching classic Mariah Carey performances and interviews on YouTube... We've been in a very Mariah mood lately with the new single coming out and the new album set for April. After a day of watching an artist who has hopefully faced the darkest days of her career and came out on the other side, it seemed fitting to post this poem that I wrote last week about Britney Spears, another performer who is in the middle of her own turbulence both personally and professionally.
We can watch and gossip, and think we know it all... but the truth is, we have all been there. We are all human beings who have sunk to the depths and found the faith to rise again. That's what Palm Trees in the Wind is about--a visual ride through the parallel ups and downs that we go through--watching someone else struggle as you struggle, and survive as you survive.
I hope you enjoy this one, and please comment if you do. I love hearing from you. Stay tuned next week for more poetry, I've got lots more on the way…
Palm Trees in the Wind
I still see our pink tropical sunrise,
majestic palm trees surging up
from the rich soil of our minds.
Pretty eyes, young and unafraid,
reminding me of days we left behind.
We're still, after all, two of a kind.
The glitter never washed away,
settling into sexy wrinkles
on ever-changing faces.
The shimmer sunk in,
and it stays there
just under our skin.
Nobody else can see it
but we know that it exists.
If we suds up
and scrub hard enough,
we might reveal it again.
And here we are bare, you and I,
twin goddesses of beautiful chaos.
Still searching, still yearning, never happy,
and blessed to be that way, because we know
intrinsically that satisfaction is stagnation.
We'll never reach sweet completion,
and that's our destiny, imperfect and free.
Beneath the search there is a purpose,
a tangible reason that we were crafted
from dust and gifted with breath.
It was written in stone
that today we would have
hearts that still beat,
hands that still reach,
and lips that still sing,
though so quietly.
We've been taken apart
bit by bit, and it may be true
that we are unrecognizable now.
But there's a natural, mysterious pull
like the moon has over the tides,
eternal and unstoppable.
Soon enough we will find
ourselves whole and healed,
with faith and magic returned.
The two hearts with hairline fractures,
once believed to be shattered,
are now beginning to mend.
I step down off my tower,
for once bowing in respect
to the one who came before.
I am sorry that I was jealous and spiteful,
and I take responsibility for being
that insecure and willful child.
Crone, mother, and maiden, we stand.
Sometimes I think we are her daughters,
but you are somehow a nurturer to me.
I am still stumbling on my baby steps
while you falter with your growing dreams.
You pass the tiara and I hand it right back.
One day I will earn my own diamonds.
There's no glory if I steal them from you.
In this moment that we both own,
all I desire is for you to come home.
But please take your time and get here safely,
taking smaller steps and keeping your eyes fixated
on something higher than flashbulbs and paparazzi.
Keep your toes anchored to the earth beneath,
open your wings, and remember to stand tall.
Enveloped in prayers, angels kiss your face
and guide your steps back to where you belong.
I'm stronger for having known you,
and you are better for having taken the fall.
Photo by: Jon Asato