Maybe

“Maybe one day”, is too far away.

A certain answer, yes or no,

Is the remedy.

And if you can’t say yes,

Then the answer is no.

Maybe used to mean
A place of possibility

Then it soon turned into
‘just wait.’

Now 'maybe' is a no.

I will face it now.

Alone.

Standing with my hands in the air.

I will reach up to my God

Who will deliver me

From the pain

And anguish

Of losing something

That I never really had

After all.

The leaves floated by.

I grasped the air

For a crunchiness

To feel in my palms

Because at least it was feeling something.

I looked off in the distance

And saw the young trees

Believing that the tiny pieces that

Flew out of my hands

Would land on fertile soil

And would take root.

But I didn’t look close enough to

What was in my  hands.

The brown dried leaves

Contained no seeds.

And dead leaves produce nothing.

I thought I felt a seed in my palm

But maybe it was only a thorn

From the dried stem.

Or maybe it was a seed

But was barren on the inside

Full of air, nothing else

The dried leaves on the ground, though,

Aren’t for nothing

They cover the wet soil.

They will make darkness for someone

Else’s seeds.

I will still reach up, grasping for dried leaves

And I will rub them between my hands.

Next time, though, I will look carefully at what is

Laying in my palms

Before casting the leaves to the wind.

Because 'maybes' don't always have seeds.