I remember the day
I sprouted and started
growing from my seed.

Clawing through the
parched ground I
claimed as home.

Much needed rain,
support, coming seemingly
all too sporadic.

As I grew,
adding my first layer
of protective bark,

A sapling,
harried by winds,
torn between two.

Stowing away,
in the darkness,
under the canopy.

Letting the ground
lower itself,
I rose.

I reached,
to their height.

Now, understanding.
I had to break through,
break away.

Limbs crashing down,
churned emotion,
in disturbed leaves.

All three damaged,
battered and bruised,
weeping sap.

Slowly recovering,
I hope.
They also

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed