by Sarah Nicole Tyler
a canopy of branches steeped in droplets of love, and heavy heart things
spring in coils from her sun-seeking head
reaching, reaching, r e a c h i n g for light
and the breath exhaled by all the bitter beings
that visit her when they are lonely;
Lost souls looking to talk aloud to a planted thing
that they know
will stay behind
when they go
how it feeds her.
How she thrives
for a little while or so
until up and off they flow ~
Oh! She longs to be like the water
which splashes and plays and follows
whomever it wishes, whenever it wishes
and goes wherever it wishes to go.
She wants to be like the air, who is
everywhere and sees everything, yet
nowhere and feels nothing, all at once.
Or sometimes, some days,
most of all she wishes to be like the light.
The fiery thing that brings new growth,
and protection, and draws to it all living things
because of its sparkle and strength
here she sits, a planted thing,
a girl with roots stuck deep in the mud.
“Why, Mother?” asks the girl.
“Why have you created me so? To peak over treetops
at the flurry of cities, with these arms and legs that move
sooooo slowwwww. Everyone overlooks me,
everyone breezes by. Everyday they outshine me.
Please Mother, tell me why?”
But her Mother does not answer.
At least, not so much with words.
There was just a warm breeze
soft, and enduring,