The rocks that bruise my skin
Lie at the roots of me
The axe cries for use
The sky is bright as I strain toward it
The perfect light I strive to reach
“No! You will never be!
Never – you will see
What you desire to be
Remains simply in picture
To me you will forever be sadly rooted.
Go ahead, grasp at the air around you-
Breathe it in
Photosynthesize the materials
you wish you could be –
the sunlight you will never fully touch.
Perpetually captivated by what you want.”
Uproot me.
Destroy me.
You call me beautiful-
A tree too royal to cut.
But I say, “Take that axe to me!
Instead you steal away in quiet
The stillness of the night
I hear the familiar swashing
The grass muffled footsteps
The gentle pouring from your watering can
My leaves kiss your face
The straggly, limp branches that sway
So influenced I am by the wind, that I weep