We are
Arborescent—
What goes
Unseen
Is at the very
Root of ourselves.
Distance can
Distort our deepest
Sense
Of who
We are,
Leave us
Warped
& wasted
As winter’s
Wind. We will
Not walk
From what
We’ve borne.
We would
Keep it
For a while,
Sit silent &
Swinging on its branches
Like a child
Refusing to come
Home. We would
Keep,
We would
Weep,
Knowing how
We would
Again
Give up
Our world
For this one.