For Seth Pina's Tree Contest
Submit a new or old poem about a tree, can be fictional or non fictional.
I stood as though reborn on mounded dirt, which seemed so moist it strangely could assuage the ache from bowels that howled from so much hurt. Would ground then be my cure for pain and rage? Enticed, I deeply pressed each foot through soil till they took root and fixed me to a spot. My ever-thickening trunk served well to foil the plots of those who’d cut me. . . . they could not! My limbs, though mighty branches, could not bend; stubbornly I fought my transplantation. I weathered storms that God or man might send, sightless, living long in desolation. Self preservation did this much for me- old loved ones passed and I remained a tree.
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