The twisted roots of the problem foster a tree a doubt
with bitter fruit, looking back is not always sweet, full
of trauma and betrayal is the past and it still frightens
me, it still hurts to know I was so lost I might not have
come out of it, to sense to horrors that might have been.
Still from the soil rises a tree, tall and proud, its
gestation has taken many years and it reaches toward
sunlight and love. As it grows, it transcends fears,
understands that rain is the sky’s tears, mourning
what happens here on earth but also renewing and
nourishing all life, in a sense, a rebirth. Yes, I am
twisted, like the DNA of all that has existed, my
bark is gnarled but I am resistant to all kinds of
weather, season after season, I am still here,
reason is my shield, it keeps me calm, it gives me
perspective. The sunlight chases away nocturnal
terrors and allows me to live out my life in a
normal world. Things make sense in the light that
are blown out of proportion in the dark and all of
these experiences are written in my bark, if you
run your fingers over it, get as close as you can
get, to understanding the life I’ve lived and in the
end, I’ll have made another friend to share my
stories with.
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