We are pleased to announce the winner of our 2024 “Spring Fever” Poetry Contest:
“Dreams of Spring”
by Gabriel R. Murillo
Like spring, I long to be vibrant and bright, full of life.
As a foreign seed, sprouting roots were never deep.
I arose as a sickly tree, on a land that cursed me,
like barren soil, my inception was a somber tale.
Hollow and brittle, even the weight of fowls was a terrorizing burden.
As I look around, tears drip like sap, sticky and staining.
I’m surrounded by a forest of minorities, my family.
Born with this sin, the sun touched skin.
Decreed, to never bloom or be free.
Hierarchy prunes away, as harrowing winds violently sway, timber begins to break.
Setting ablaze, another grove clearing, for their gains.
A place of supremacy to remain, forever spring from what I see.
Fear consumes, as flames spread its wings.
Fingers of the smoke, grip tight the throat, choking our hope.
As barefoot soles sear, those in power cheer.
This forest cries, muted by lies,
as people struggle to survive.
No choice, when I was a seed,
roots too far from my ancestral trees.
Afraid to branch or bare fruit to eat.
Drinking the poison streams, intoxicating and numbing me.
As I feel the heat, from a system against me,
defiantly, I embrace the years of flames.
My hollow trunk, now a furnace of power,
I was bred in struggle, my blood becomes leather.
Bronze skin, shimmering in the crimson and amber glow.
Their fire will only make my people flourish like spring,
as an indigenous dream.
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Angela M. May 08, 2024
Powerful
Alan G. May 08, 2024
Nicely done. Spring remains an excellent metaphor for hope, improvement, and the future.
Dianne May 08, 2024
I hear the cry.
Estrellita Jimenez May 08, 2024
What a heart-felt, thought-provoking poem! I could feel the author's deep-rooted pains, struggles, and disappointments - as well as his unrelentless spirit of survival, success - , yes, it is all about his people's ability to thrive amidst adversity. The seed grows into a tree-able to withstand everything that assails it - and even if it is hewn down or ground into tiny pieces, it's roots will spring forth again - never to die! Gabriel, may your tribe increase and be always blessed!
Al Antonelli May 08, 2024
Great poem. Great insight.