3 days ago

I tried to eat a pomegranate with my hands. 

Like any self-respecting manmonkey would,

I went at it gorilla-style. 

No tact, 

Just brute force.

I tried to pull it apart

And pull it apart

And pull it apart…

Nothing was happening, 

But then all of a sudden the whole thing flew apart

And seeds went flying everywhere. 

I picked up all the seeds, 

Ate them, 

Then went on with my merry day. 

Today, 

Sitting on the couch, 

I saw a lonely pomegranate seed that had apparently been launched across the room. 

And I wondered

How many times I’ve tried to bruteforce myself, 

To crack myself open to find every single seed

To get everything I can with no need for patience

Leaving a bereft shell behind, 

Missing its jewels. 

Through psychedelics

Therapies

Self-analysis

Etc. 

And I realized that the rough-handedness of this approach necessitates 

Certain little parts of me being flung dreadfully far

Hiding - gathering dust under a fireplace somewhere

Some seeds don’t want to be cracked like a walnut, 

They are much gentler in their preferences.

Only when I come back to the place of gentle curiosity, 

Of trying to crack nothing open

But just innocently looking around

Will it reveal itself to me

So that it and I 

Can share a splendid communion

Of an understanding giggle.