Once Again, I Dreamt of Water

PROLOGUE

Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.

W. H. AUDEN

Do you know the words that make the hidden door open?
Can you speak my secret name and fix me?
I have no heart, I have no brain
Lord I have no courage
Can you get me home again?

Could never be heaven without you
Could never be heaven without you
Never be heaven without you

from "Could Never Be Heaven"

Brand New

JACOB: I came across a thought this morning, something beneath my roots the ant armies call them their heavenly bridge, the wandering cats call them colliding catastrophes, I simply call them my veins...ah, the secret: true love - true love it's real. Look, this thing called "love," that humans eat, sleep, count sheep, dream, and will even die for . . not unattainable, neither fantasy; and it's also how I came to be.

I'm blessed, but I'm also burdened. I have a home; so - yes - blessed, yet burdened - I am in a paradise yet cleverly was built: immobile — no other choice but at least I am dressed by autumn, winter, spring, and summer that is when each of them visits me. I'm Jacob, a Jacaranda tree, but I am first and foremost a protector. I contribute to Mother Earth's atmosphere, get rid of a percentage of carbon dioxide; more so, I lend a hand, or branch, so to speak: a day's supply of oxygen to the family of four living inside our two-story home that is founded upon my bed. Our soil although rugged and insignificant perhaps to some, isn't bothersome to me at all, it's my cologne or so I believe.

This quirky family lives on the other side of my window — are they ghosts or perhaps angels?

Life goes on, seasons change, my moods either bring me down or up, sadden or energize me. Billows and traces of my breath leave a kiss like mist upon their chilled window, but do they even notice?

We all have a tree inside of us. Finding it is just a matter of time.

-Sahar Delijani, Children of the Jacaranda Tree

ALONDRA:

The weeping Jacaranda is Jacob, but for the most part - the weeping Jacaranda is me. When he weeps sap, salted emotion trickles out of my tear ducts. When I inhale the scent of lemon and pine, remembering the way my boyfriend Estefano lets me kiss him, Jacob remembers me and we both exhale. Jacob gazes at the world through auric eyes embedded in bark, a wooden typed stone. I peer out through hazel luminescence behind foggy glasses and when we sleep ahhh it is with ease and this natural ebbing flowing. Our biorhythms instinctively mirror the other's soul.When he is emptied of blooms, he still has leaves left, and I'm left in awe – Jacob, you're beautiful, you're blessed! I wish I still had my leaves; I embrace this. Weeping; I return to love.

When he's carrying weight - his shoulders though built and strong crave touch and I yearn to hold him, but he doesn't let me, or at least he doesn't want me to know he yearns - a spirit inside his tree-cage. His branches embrace my arms in spirit - we who once wilted because of a seemingly impossible love, now dance, yearning, feeling alive.

I seek peace, you do, we all do; a higher frequency, knowledge hidden, we beg release, an eternal om or ahh, yearning solace, returning to leaves like destiny knocking on windows.

Jacob, I am dying to be held by your arms that I know are tired and cold. Warmed by the sun's rays he grows taller and I am kissed by these same particles of light yet from a distance, but I wilt.

When the shade and angels comfort him to stay strong he towers above our house and I swoon at the thought of caressing Estefano again losing hope for milliseconds thinking I may die soon, I shake off that thought and now regain my confidence or at least try to.