Ne drmusaj drvo / Stop Shaking The Tree

! This post was written long ago. What you're reading is not necessarily how I feel about things in 2017. This blog was started by an 18-year-old in 2001. Please, keep that in mind before you freak out.

This one is a rewrite of a p..m that I wrote in August 2006 and originally titled Leaves. The narrator here isn't necessarily a living being, he/she/it could be something abstract. The imagery is a bit tasteless at some points, but I actually have one p..m with worse imagery, from the same year. OK, two. OK, all of my 2006 p..ms are somewhat tasteless, full of blood, wounds, humidity. Either way, here it goes.

Ne drmusaj drvo

Nekad davno,
bio jednom jedan ti,
nešto kasnije,
bila jednom jedna ja,
i bila jednom jedna klica,
koja vremenom postade drvo.

Kad sam te prvi put srela,
sedeo si pod iskrivljenim drvetom,
i pisao si...mislim da je to bila priča.
Sela sam pored tebe i požalila se
da već godinama nisam ništa napisala,
pomirisala sam drvo, uzela te za ruku
i ponovo sam naučila da pišem,
od tog dana reči nadolaze kao bujica.

Pogledala sam lišće na drvetu,
pomislila da deluje malo neobično,
pomerala su se kao nijedno drugo,
ali su začudo ostajali tu gde su.

Jednog dana se popeh na ogradu da ih bolje pogledam,
svi su bili zalepljeni natrag na grane,
koncem, krvlju i pribadačama.
Pitala sam se šta se to dogodilo,
pitala sam se šta si to učinio,
pitala sam se šta su ti to učinili.

Otkrila sam da je ovo iskrivljeno drvo
nekada davno bilo pravo drvo,
i drmusao si ga toliko
da je lišće počelo da pada.
Što je više padalo,
to si bio slabiji,
umirao si u njegovoj senci,
život je polako puzao iz tebe,
dok jednog dana, poslednjim mrvicama snage,
nisi bacio preostali list nazad na granu,
i on se nekako zakačio.
Skupio si sve lišće i napravio hrpu,
slabim rukama prepunim buđi i mahovine
počeo si da bacaš lišće u vazduh.

Oslanjao si se o to drvo,
pokušavajući da ustaneš iskrivio si ga,
ali polako si uspeo da vratiš lišće,
počevši odozdo, pa naviše, ka nebu.
Neke listove je bilo dovoljno nabosti na grane,
nekima su bili potrebni konac ili pribadača,
najtežima je trebalo malo tvoje krvi.
I drvo je nastavilo da živi,
i ti si ponovo disao.

Bilo mi je toplo oko srca,
znajući da sedim ispod divnog drveta,
znajući da ga je spasla divna duša.
Tvoje nežne bajke i tanani strahovi
vodile su me kroz najopasnije čistine,
miris drveta me je peo uz sva brda.
Svaki put kad je drvo procvetalo,
bilo je pčela, bilo je meda,
beše jednom godina kad je procvetalo
toliko puta da to beše gotovo nemoguće.

I onda si jednog dana
počeo da drmusaš drvo.
Donela sam ti cveće,
gađao si me kamenjem,
jurio si me oko drveta
daskom prepunom zarđalih eksera,
a onda si od kamenja podigao novu ogradu.
Nazivao si me pogrdnim imenima,
pokušao si da me nateraš da
progutam slomljeno ogledalo.

Na vrhu krošnje više nema lišča,
sedim dole, krijem se, sa listom u ruci,
a tebi odjednom ne smeta što ga držim,
ne bi ti smetalo da odem u bilo kom trenutku,
a meni smeta što više nemaš šta da kažeš.
Briga me šta misliš o meni,
ne moraš čak ni da me voliš,
možeš da me pljuješ i šutiraš,
ali ne drmusaj drvo!
Prestani da drmusaš drvo!

_________________________________________

Stop Shaking The Tree

Once upon a time,
There was you,
Later in time,
There was me,
And there was a sprout,
Growing into a tree.

When I first met you,
You were sitting under a crooked tree,
Writing a...I think it was a story.
I sat down and joined you
Complained that I couldn't write for years,
I smelled the tree, I took your hand
Then I learnt to write again
And words have been flowing like a river.
And I looked at the leaves on the tree
Thinking they look a bit unusual,
Moving the way no other leaf would,
But strangely in place.

One day, I climbed the fence and looked at them,
They were all glued back to the tree
With thread, blood and pins.
I was wondering what happened there,
I was wondering what you have done,
I was wondering what they've done to you.

I found out that this crooked tree
Used to be a plain tree back in the days,
And you shook it too much
So the leaves started falling down,
The more they were falling,
The weaker you were,
Dying in the shade,
Your life crawling out of you,
Until one day, with last drop of strength,
You tossed the last leaf back
And it somehow stuck to its place.
You've picked them all and formed a pile
With arms weak, full of mould and moss
You started tossing leaves up in the air.

You were leaning against the tree,
Trying to get up, you made it crook,
But slowly you managed to get the leaves back up,
Starting from the bottom, up to the sky,
Some leaves would only need to be stabbed with a branch,
Some needes some thread or pins,
The toughest ones needed some of your blood.
And the tree was alive,
And you were breathing again.

I felt warm on the inside,
Knowing I'm sitting under a wonderful tree,
Knowing the tree was saved by a wonderful soul.
Your gentle fairy-tales and finest of fears
Were guiding me through the scariest of fields,
Smell of the tree would make me climb hills.
Each time the tree would blossom,
There'd be bees, there'd be honey,
There was a year it blossomed
Many more times than it was possible.

And then one day,
You started shaking the tree,
I brought you some flowers
You tossed rocks at me,
You chased me around,
With planks full of rusty nails,
Then you made a new fence out of rocks.
You were clling me names
Trying to shove pieces of a broken mirror
Down my throat.

There are no more leaves on top of the tree,
I'm sitting down, hiding, holding one
And you don't seem to mind if I take it away,
You wouldn't mind if I went away any given day,
I do mind that you have nothing else to say.

I don't care what you think of me
And you don't have to love me
You can spit on me, kick me around
But stop shaking the tree,
Stop shaking the tree!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *