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Roots
Tell me
Can a tree without roots
Ever bear fruit?
Tell me
Can a ship without sails
Ever make haste in the boundless sea?
Death creeps, cloying
Knotted garters frayed
Under the sea the sirens wail
Forgotten, ignored
But for the ones who live on
The feet do drag on
Swollen, septic, deeply forlorn
For those of us who are aware
Who live in a world; awake
Be sure to spare a thought
For us lowly wretched
Hope exists of course
There must be light for shadows
But fruit does surely rot
Make haste, the eye of the needle continues to narrow
Copyright ©
Radamir Haji
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