Bigger than Me
The poem is much bigger than me
it was the very first lesson
that I learned
to forget
So at first
I would approach it
under moonlight
I would shave pieces from its edges
I would place them in my pocket
At poetry shows
I would stack my poetry pieces
before strangers
beneath stage lights
let them bake in the heat
blow away like dust
This stage is so much bigger than me
so I could never take it home
though I tried
to squeeze it through my door
One time
I took the poetry pieces from my pocket
placed them in a glass of water on my desk
while I slept
In the morning
my home had become the fragments of itself
the poem stood in its place
both proud and true
Now my home was so much bigger than me
I could neither push nor pull it
I crawled inside
it beat me to the punch
it was already in me
coursing through my veins
longing to grow
so much bigger than me
I spit it out
as much as I could gather in my mouth
now my mouth is
so much bigger than me
I filled rooms with my words
Television camera crews
gathered below what was once my bedroom window
Stephen Harper put my name on a list
that too was a poem
so much bigger than me
I saw no escape
there was no way out alive
I returned to place it all began
shaved more poetry pieces from its edges
placed them in a envelope
like a note which read:
Dear Stephen Harper,
You are the reason the trees don’t talk anymore
why the are shut up in hard bodies
you traded their tongues for buried treasure
but the map
was written in a language you could never understand
all the words were in dream sound
and all the pictures seemed blurry
but now
the trees
they sing the ever resilient song of the chainsaw
they imagine themselves as tables and chairs
and you are the reason
the mighty oak
can already smell the feast on its back
Signed,
Brad
And as you may have already guessed
he never wrote back
It seems some poems are far to large to swallow whole
so we don’t
but they keep growing
so much bigger than me
so much bigger than all of us
