When I was 7,

I used to climb trees,

I mean a lot of trees,

because there’s something about being up high,

that just makes you feel good,

powerful,

because amid those branches,

I could laugh at the dragons below,

and it didn’t matter if fairy tales were true,

up there I was my own hero,

and I used to read,

up there in the trees,

but not really,

I just felt pretty cool,

to sit up there and stare,

at words, letters, anything,
and I used to let the wind blow,

the endless letters wherever they wanted to go,

compose my own story,

those trees taught me many things like the sap,

the way a tree bleeds,

and how to hold on just right,

when drops begin to drip,

because you just figured out that words aren’t always nice,

you know the saying “sticks and stones,”

well hidden under leaves,

I didn’t have to pretend that those words didn’t hurt me,

and I figured out pretty quickly,

that if you break a tree’s bark,

its protection,

you hurt it way down deep,

and all those kids picking at me,

hurt me way down deep,

so I would retreat to those trees,

the ones that always got picked on,

used,

for the laughter of kids,

not caring,

and how would you like boards nailed to your limbs,

a permit mark of humanity,

and no matter how many times I say you can’t own a tree,

humanity tries,

to etch their names in living things,

never forgetting those words of insecurities,

stuck way down deep,

but trees are funny things,

because even after those kids move away,

to houses, babies, bigger things,

the trees remain,

standing,

strong,

because that sap,

the sticky stuff,

is really good at healing,

and in the middle of those trees,

I am only one piece of humanity,

1 piece of the 1000 piece puzzle,

composing a picture of more than survival,

a victory,

and winning a war,

because other people,

heroes,

showed me how beautiful the picture could be,

and I’m lucky because someone helped me down from the trees,

and I figured out how to sit just right,

to get all the sunlight,

and yesterday I sat under a tree,

and just smiled at the wonderful miracle of simple things,

the beauty of living, breathing, anything,
A story of victory.