i'm a chinaberry girl in a chinaberry world or what the chinaberry tree told me

if you could see me whole, look beyond the superficial, and disregard what you might have heard or think you know of me, you might find beauty corrupted by nature and perhaps be moved by pity to adore me. for i am lovely even as i am the death of you, and therefore doomed to unwilling poisonous ways.

stretching far and wide, beyond all claims of ownership, i reach out with trembling fingertips. but my presence is often unwelcome. and before i have planted myself into a safe spot there are a million grabbing hands ready to pull me up.

it is true, i was not always invasive. but i knew to adapt. i have made myself resistant and strong to survive. i was educated by nature and rewarded with tolerance. and so my roots burrow deep, entrench themselves with sturdy grip. and i'll wrap you in a stranglehold despite attempts to love with light embrace.

spring i'm full to bursting with deadly grace. i will fan out long serrated leaves like knives to shield you from the tears of the world and shade you from the intensity of a mocking sun. i would protect you from any element of harm that god could muster. all the while i'll worry that shadows and light will betray me, reflect a plot to pierce you through your open heart or else sever sense from your saintly head.

the summer months bloom with worry, and hang heavy with dangerous possibility. for i am forbidden fruit. and i know it is my folly and shame to be ripe with deadly poison. but to consume is to be consumed. it begins with sweaty palms, turns to tingling feet, and soon you're sick with despair, made weak with repression. and there's no cure or antidote yet available to turn you from this disgrace.

autumn and a fall from grace.

winter winds whip me bare of pretty affectations, disrobe me as if in punishment, and reveals my bleaker side. the bitter poison clinging to my bones in clusters serve as cunning reminders, and they say: "you are but withered happiness." so suffering through the humiliation of being laid out bare, i am destined to wear stars of sorrow. purple flowers in tangled crowns with light fragrance to entice new love in deadly seduction.

yes, i am beauty corrupted by nature. and perhaps you will be moved by pity to adore me. for i am lovely even as i am the death of you, and therefore doomed to unwilling poisonous ways.