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Poem

Scrawny roots dried out by the harsness of daily life.
This is the only ones I have to feed us with because of
       the depletion of kindness. compassion and 
       the expanse of greed.
I gently place it with all the fragile love, hopes and 
        goodness I have left
 Withered, cracked and ones devoid of the natural 
       oils of this earth are my only tools.

I gather manure from the stored, crackled, salted tears 
       scars ,and mistakes to protect them.
To best  strengthen my root to break thru and survive 
       this sometimes cruel world into the dirt it goes.
When I seed the sprout waving at me it's rejoicing that 
       I sing.
But when it smiles to thank me for the hard work and 
       care my scars disappear,  my stored tears melt and
       my heart swells.

Then an unexpected harsh spring wind comes that I did not
        perceive or prepare it for..
It damages it.
It turns it's back on me in pain, hurt and anger because it's 
        stem is damaged.
My heart breaks in unrecognizable cuts but not in anger,
        only sorrow for it's pain.

I know now I can not fix it, though desperately desire to..
I accept it's anger. and give nature's time to help.the root
         adjust to life as all of us are, an imperfect living beings
Space from me it asks, and receives as a reminder of 
            happier times and the one who wasn't perfect.
I hope on a very sunny day. with blue skies and no clouds
            that my root knows.

Knows what one may wonder?
Knows and believes I love it and truly did the best I could
             at the time.
Knows that one day we can all be healed 
Knows that there will be a time where we can love and be loved , 
                without life's cruel winds.

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