I Am A Tree

A Tree  

Alone I stand in A swamp of mud, cracking, peeling, breaking away. I see my branches floating away slowly as they drop piece by piece, hitting the water so unnoticeable, not even a splash. 

Rain falls upon me, cleansing my surface, filling my cracks. I draw in hard to bring the life giving water to my core, but it never reaches, it just trickles down, down like falling tears, hitting the ground creating more mud. 

The wind blows me in directions I can't go. I wear and tear and break yet again. But still I stand, fastened hard to the earth by roots, surrounded by mud. 

How long will I be in this position, bound in one place, slowly rotting from the inside? How long will the external elements continue to break me from the outside? 

I'm fading away, so silently, no one notices. I'm gray and ugly, not to be admired. 

I once had a chance to be more, with a little love and nourishment, I could have flourished, been strong and lived so happily in one place. 

Now I wait for the day that I can't feel the rain, no wind will move me and my last branch floats out of sight, never to feel pain again.