Clementines Falling

Clementines Falling

We are born 

authentic and unashamed,

curious and glad.

But instead of merely growing,

I suppose we do a lot of falling.

As if peeling a clementine,

the self of childhood 

is torn apart

and discarded.

Friends, wishes,

and innocence

fall away

until we are stripped down 

to naked fleshy stripes,

just beating hearts 

and tumultuous cores

unsure of who and why and what

and so much more.

And in that moment,

after our skin has been shed,

we have the choice to keep fighting 

or to be eaten alive.

The last remnants 

of our sweetness can be devoured,

or we can reach, reach,

reach far deep inside

to find the last seeds 

of childhood’s hope.

So I here stake my claim—

I will dig my fingers 

deep into my chest,

grasp ahold my tender happiness

and push it out of hiding.

The seeds of my clementine 

will rebirth golden sweetness to sweetness,

because falling was needed to release 

true authenticity to the world.

~