Anatomy
A Poem
--
I am not like that tree in the woods
standing tall,
arms stretching out toward the sky
fingers wide
joyfully embracing the world around it
Reaching, inching daily
to furthermore entwine
I endeavor to stand tall
but I often feel small
and my arms don’t spread real far
I tend to coil within rather than extend
and when I fall, crashing to the ground
I’ll make no sound
that human ear can hear
I have rows and rows of residue
wrapped around my trunk
marking the history of tape, of glue
wound and wound around my wounds,
stitching me together
stable just enough
to wear more rings
and brace against rough winds
Though bound tightly, I still leak sap
from which insects and little critters
their tiny tongues lap,
drinking in the nutrients I shed
My bark is soft, my leaves grow green
I offer lots of shade
I may not be decidedly alluring,
but ’til some whirlwind rips my roots
I’ll stand proudly, persevering
