Uprooted
I wonder what she’d say
would she stare in wonder?
cry in disdain?
Fear for my fickle bones.
When her child is rested into her flesh
No more than fertilizer,
giving for the last time.
Will the earth mourn me?
And does this creature
of ancient bones and colossal mystery
know how we think of her?
are we simply ants long her back
If she could think, could see
would she even notice me
would she understand my sorrows
and tell me that i am allowed to weep
My tears recycle into my skin
and one day in my grave
My tears will water the roots
That were left for you
Tell me tales of tumbleweeds and moss
The roots they lack and how they run
Not meant to stay, always free
That i was not these plants.
“There are some who can live wild
no consistency, constant movement
and thats the best way for them to survive
but you, my dear, are a fragile flower
you were cut from your roots
and you’ve been slowly drying out
and now you can return to the earth
just a little longer you might regrow your roots”
I haven't written in an incredibly long time so this is far from good, but I missed writing here and just writing in general, so enjoy whatever this is.
Copyright © Bodhi Darner | Year Posted 2020
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