I Am a Tree


I am a tree.

Forty-eight rings mark what is my life’s work, my strife, all I can say I’ve done.

At night there is a rustle amongst those who live in my branches.

They shake my leaves and wake me.

Rest- I’d cry for it if I could.

The night is dark, filled up to the brim with fear- excruciating fear.

Horror- I’d run if I could.

My roots cripple me in the darkness of the forest.

The wind carries a chill, a distant howl, a ringing bell

a scream.

I hear it all.

I see it all, I do.

Just when I think it will never end,

precisely when I determine that I cannot take one more moment-

a light.

Breaking over the border of the places I’ve never been and the places I’ll never go.

A light! Oh, a beautiful, magnificent light.

A new morning.

One that, even in my darkest hour I never once forgot.

A new morning that is good and pure.

I am just a tree.

48 rings mark who I am.

I’ve seen a lot of life in these years.

I still fear the night,

but I do not lose faith in the light.


 

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