A Poison Tree

I found a wonderful poem recently, and I think that it is one of the most truthful things that I have ever read. It proceeds as this:

'I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright,
And my foe beheld it shine,
For he knew that it was mine-

And into my garden stole
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning, glad, I see
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.'

It is written by William Blake, who is long dead now. But, I think that it speaks volumes of what many people strive to say. William Blake has somehow managed to put it into perfect words, and perfect way of describing it at the grasps of those smart enough to look!

'I was angry with my friend: I told my wrath, my wrath did end.' A friend, I believe he is saying, will forgive you, if only you admit to your anger, because without admitting that you have a quarrel, you can never fix it. 'I was angry with my foe: I told it not, my wrath did grow.' I think that in this passage, he speaks of pride. Of not wanting to be the first to admit guilt, or fault, or whatever ugly emotion it may be. That keeping that emotion to yourself, and not allowing it to be addressed will only hurt someone, even yourself, more in the end.

Then, in the next section, he says, 'and I watered it in fears, night and morning with my tears'. It's his wrath that he talks about, he is harboring it, and therefore nursing it on uglier emotions that even the wrath alone. With sadness, and fear, that only make it grow and expand. 'And I sunned it with smiles, with soft deceitful wiles'. Again, he's feeding it as it accepts bitterness and deceitful plans of revenge. So now, it only has a core of anger, but all these other emotions whipping around it, and making it even harder to tear down.

'And it grew both day and night'. He keeps adding emotions, and harboring that ugliness inside, letting expand an expand. 'Till it bore an apple bright'. This is where the poem becomes a metaphor, which is a way of thinking of something to help understand it. Of course, no true apple sprung from his wrath, but the wrath was the 'seed' for this horrible end product. 'And my foe beheld it shine, for he knew that it was mine-". So, his enemy knew of his hatred, and felt some emotion towards it. I believe like an amused satisfaction.

'And into my garden stole, when the night had veiled the pole; in the morning, glad, I see, my foe outstretched beneath the tree.' So, in the end, that 'apple' was a poison, evil that sprung from anger, bitterness, sorrow, jealousy, and pride. It hurt the enemy, why we know not, and that part is up to you to learn. 

Let this poem teach you a lesson, acknowledge the moral, whatever or however you take lessons away from things.