Introducing a new series of poems by Julian Matthews. Julian is a writer and Pushcart-nominated poet published in The American Journal of Poetry, Autumn Sky Poetry Daily, Borderless Journal, Beltway Poetry Quarterly, Dream Catcher Magazine, Live Encounters Magazine, Lothlorien Poetry Journal and The New Verse News, among others. He is a mixed-race minority from Malaysia and lived in Ipoh for seven years. Currently based in Petaling Jaya, he is a media trainer and consultant for senior management of multinationals on Effective Media Relations, Social Media and Crisis Communications. He was formerly a journalist with The Star and Nikkei Business Publications Inc
Link: https://linktr.ee/julianmatthews
By Julian Matthews
I asked the rock, who are you?
And the rock replied, I am magma from the Earth’s womb, birthed in a fit of volcanic rage and cooled over time
I asked a grain of sand, where are you from?
And the grain of sand replied: I am descended from your highest rocky mountains lifted by Earth’s upper crust
I asked a drop of water, how did you come to be?
And the drop of water replied, I was once a snow queen on an orbiting icy comet drawn by Earth’s sensuous gravity
I asked a gulp of air, when did it first exist?
And the gulp of air replied, my ancient ancestor cyanobacteria, of royal blue and emerald green, populated the oceans 3 billion years ago, absorbed golden sunlight and tirelessly, one day at a time,
for a billion years, released living breaths just for you
I asked the root of a tree, what is your purpose?
And the root of the tree replied, I draw the princely gifts of water and nutrients to feed the stem which feeds the branches which feeds the leaves and fruits and, in turn, all life on earth
I asked a friend recently, how she was and she replied that she just quit her job – and at the age of 30 and single, she feels shelved, lost and without purpose
I listened and empathised – but I did not tell her I felt lost many a time too and in a way, I still am, uncertain of my own purpose in life
I did not tell her of the memory of the minute of our son’s birth bursting forth unto this earth taking his first gulp of air in a fit of rage, feeling the weight of the world on our shoulders
I did not tell her of the mountains ahead, the tireless trek of many steps, one ahead of another,
the detours and changes around the bend, and how I often confused the summit for the journey
I did not tell her of ignoring my roots, being constantly on the move, not wanting to believe how standing still as a tree in the wind, could possibly enrich me or bring any dream to fruition
I did not tell her how I skipped from rock to rock thinking I could walk on water
I did not tell her how I felt entitled not knowing then that the sands of time would eventually catch up with the man
I did not tell her I learned you cannot hold infinity, eternity or any other abstraction in the palm of your hand, only callouses, scars and rope burns
I did not tell her how the hearts of some men can be an island unto itself and you could end up being washed up on their calcified shores
I did not tell her there is no heaven in a flower, wild or tamed, but only in the fertile imagination of robed men in privilege and power, supposedly fearful of hell’s fire
I didn’t even tell her what the rock, the grain of sand, the drop of water, the gulp of air, or the root told me
Because the last thing the world, and any woman, needs right now is another man speaking in obtuse metaphors, and making pronouncements and judgement calls, as if he were a god
First published in Poem-a-Week, Sims Library of Poetry, Los Angeles, USA.
