I am a fig tree in every lifetime. From the tips of my branches, purple, interlinked, I am a mosaic. A sea of purple, each fig a fragment of your life, towering over you with a relentless hunger to reach new heights. But would it be so wrong for you to say that the ambiguity of it all is what keeps you going? No! How tall will I become? How long can my branches foster a home for the heaviest parts of you? Regardless, that is not the point.
You pluck a fig from my tree, afraid that if you do not face the fruits of your past I will return to a brazen shallow-rooted snag with nothing but wrinkled and blackened figs around your feet. It took me so long to get this far, tree-dwellers with the faces that reflect the enemies you’ve made plucking away at the fragile mold of who I am. Taking pieces of me with them. Remember, I am you.
And so you sink your canines into a fig that's ripeness has been long gone. Consuming the weight that weakens my branches. A hint of your father's words that once reflected daggers puncturing your raw flesh. Almost as if you could truly feel them penetrating your skin with every sentence. A touch of the nights you’d spend alone in your room, wallowing in your self-loathing vessel you once took for granted. A maimed corpse I was. Carrying all that you were not ready to face. Remember, I am you.
You pluck another fig from my tree, this time from a separate branch, sinking your canines in once more, ripeness still long gone just as the last. What a putrid taste it left behind, which you had made obvious by the look on your face. Worse than the last, juice dripping from the sides of your mouth as you consumed it in its entirety, your gullet once ripe now full of the shame you had once felt leaving your friends behind for the pursuit of individuality. That felt good, didn’t it? To consume the pain. Remember, I am you.
And the process continued.
On… and on… and on… and on… and on… and on… and on… and on…
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. Taking a step back from the base of the tree to admire it in its entirety. Me. You. And how glorious a sight that was. My roots are strong and deep, my branches wide, and my leaves are a testament to the life that flows within me. You. The baggage of the fruits you had previously consumed suddenly seemed to ease the weight my branches were once tasked with carrying for far too long. I was tired. Remember, I am you.
Such a rancid experience it was eating such foul fruits, but you had faced it all. Thank you. But this will not be the last time. Continue to face, to consume, to learn from all the hurt you must face head to head to watch me prosper. To watch you prosper. Figs tangled and intertwined, connected I am. Connected we are.
I am a fig tree in every lifetime, You are a fig tree in every lifetime. We are a mosaic of everyone and everything you’ve ever loved and experienced. I am merely a tree. Live for the both of us. You cannot pour from an empty cup.
i am, you are, we are a fig tree!