Here I sit unmoving, my once vibrant skin decayed,
Bugs and rumination have left me frayed,
Living in stagnation, burdened with despair,
My bark and branches dry, beyond repair.
Borers infest my trunk, gnawing at my core,
Diminishing the vivid imagination I bore,
Misidentified, lost in self-flagellation’s snare,
Yearning to break free from this weary lair.
I gnash my rings, pull my leaves in vain,
Seeking reprieve from this eternal strain,
No longer do I wish to remain a tree,
Yearning for a purpose beyond what I see.
For a tree like me, purpose seems constrained,
Breathing and existing, little more ordained,
Yet in this moment, a presence I sense,
The wind lashes, breaking branches immense.
Rain washes my rotting roots so deep,
Saturating the ground where I once seep,
Overtaken by the river’s swift flow,
I shift, crack, and break, fear letting go.
Uncertainty embraces me, inspiring and bold,
I surrender, as my destiny unfolds,
Splashing into the waters with newfound grace,
Submerging deeply, finding a different space.
Waterlogged, I scrape the river’s bed,
This must be how my journey is led,
Yet a current urges me to rise,
Emerging partially, to my surprise.
I’ve never known such immersion in water’s hold,
A thin skin, like liquid, my form now bold,
A walking, talking fruit with its own fruit to bear,
Waterlogged and hollow, I crack open and share.
A creature finds refuge within my hollow space,
Small and fragile, it leaps with grace,
Striking the water with branches so fine,
Moving together, a celebration in line.
From my trunk’s base, the creature does sever,
Three slabs, twelve branch-like pieces, forever,
Called legs, they become, supporting three souls,
Sitting upon my remnants, kinder paths their goals.
That, my purpose, as they gather and converse,
To be kinder to their kind, a purpose to traverse,
In the unity of their presence, my essence thrives,
As a fallen tree, newfound purpose survives.
