Goodnight

Vials of sacred births By choice-less compulsion Shattered at earth darkest harbor, The male and female cargo ejected at nature’s will. Nine branches abide in one face of a lonesome vine Some are scorched as if passed through nature’s kiln Others are wrenched as saplings, their nodes blood-dried Yet others seek nutrients for witting leaves, Flourishing branches excised by unseen hands Breathe the air of foreign climes as Gnarled hands of malice and envy Tattoo native branches with ugly incision Bleeding sap from gaunt members Now cracked, hacked and sallow.