Day 1 – Rubies

Rubies 

And what did the rubies say standing before the juice of pomegranates? – Pablo Neruda

“All this crimson that spills into the cracks seems purposeless”

The juice streams under the dim light

Flows to the unknown pool in the shadow.

They say holy water shimmers in the cathedral

This juice seems to whimper here

Longing to find a purpose under the split kernels.

 

These pomegranates have traveled far.

Seen milk spilt at the feet of goats

The creamy white didn’t shimmer.

Opaque and dingy the pail it was in was kicked.

The next pail only filed half full was traded

For couscous and barley.

And a hatchet.

 

These rubies could say the pomegranates bled quiet

Slowly releasing their juices across the cutting board.

These rubies were jealous of the pigeon blood-red

The pomegranates spilt.

Highest grade possible

These rubies standing in gold

In line next to diamonds.

A dowry gift for the wife

She is learning her way through this new kitchen

Unsure of the many contraptions on the counter

She splits the pomegranate with a chef’s knife

Dropping the half off the counter

 

These rubies standing before the juice of pomegranates

Watching the pigeon blood spill and fill cracks.

The former bride is looking for a mop or a broom.

The rubies say to the pomegranate

“You are not red like I am.

You are not true like I am.

You are not alive like I am.”

The pomegranate replies,

“Have you seen what I’ve seen?

Then you too would want to be slain in half.

Made to bleed

Nourishing this woman

showing her to fail in the kitchen

is human.

But to fall into gold,

That

Is dead and vain.”