City Boy

I lay on grass blades, sharper than katanas, and let
my mind fall to pieces on the ground.
I figure this must be what people mean
when they speak about feeling grounded.

For me, the more time I spend in nature,
the more my own nature becomes clear.
The more I realise that while my roots run deep
and my leaves have been watered my feet
are rarely planted when it counts.

So I ask myself why.
Why is it only when I take time to lie down
and look up at a blue sky that I realise
I haven’t seen it in way too long?
Cos I always been a city boy.

The clean air, the quiet, the stillness, the calm,
it always represented boredom to me.
I thought I wanted action.
Excitement.
Noise.
And I got it, cos I always been a city boy.

And I love my city.
I love the grotesque beauty of its concrete gutters.
Its market awnings and window shutters.
Its huge imposing structures that stand
so high they literally scrape the sky,
caressing clouds with their man made fingers.
Smoke stacks and silos, silent and statuesque,
sticking up like toothpicks on a carpet of moving people.
I love it cos I always been a city boy.

I love it even though it makes me nervous.
I love it even though it can be scary.

City life is the only scene I know.
So even when I’m strolling through tree lined groves,
I’m ignoring the world, scrolling through cheap iPhones,
Which do more harm to my community than 3 cyclones,
It’s like I’m walking half asleep eyes closed.
Meanwhile the streets lie choked
by fumes and pollution as we breathe
tight tokes of the deep white smoke.
The lungs of my city are congested.
It’s arteries are blocked. Gridlocked.
And so its heart becomes infected.
Our collective mindset is being tested, messed with,
the traffic lights bleed blood red
until our paths are redirected.
Our actions and reactions,
all pressured by the pace of the city.

Live smarter, work longer, play harder,
look better, take more, create more,
say more, listen more, see more, be more,
make more, make more, make more.
Make more money, make more sense,
make more of a difference.
But regardless of what this invisible wisdom’s inference is,
the difference is, when I talk to nature, nature listens.
Nature listens, calm and quiet, without judgement.
My nature was built by the city
but it’s only really nature that can heal it.

As a species, we destroy nature to fuel our cities
while our cities are destroying us.

So even though the blades are sharp,
even though the sky is clear and still,
even though the pace and noise
and excitement of the city feel far away here,
maybe this is as close to grounded as I can be.

Next to these huge imposing magnificent trees,
scraping the sky with their branches and leaves,
silent and statuesque, sticking up
like toothpicks on a carpet of moving grass.  

I always been a city boy.
But maybe my nature needs nourishing.