Amber--Growth

Growth

When would you come back;

To slice your name into my skin?

Where would you hold me

After you crushed all that I was?

Why would you stand by my side

Encouraging my defeat?

What would I become without you

There to hold me down?

Who could live in my heart,

Tearing it to shreds, but you?

When I was a sapling,

I dreamed of being a tree

Where I could bleed my own name,

And my growth could be measured

In rings, not in my core

But deep lines in rough bark

Bumps, bruises, splinters, scabs.

Where I would be planted;

There would be violent storms

That reminded me of my mother
Who taught me never to fall

I wouldn't, not rotting or broken

But I would burn to the ground

Scorching, seething, aflame, angry.

Why, my roots would bury deep

Clawing through brown and green

Ripping at all that grew near

So that I would rise alone

Inching up, not in a season

But moment by moment

Solitary, silent, hollow, heavy

What I evolve to is a statue of sticks,

Erected tall among leaves and man

Who worship every twisted branch,
Each curve spelling hated names

In shadows, not yet read

But each word reveals a ray of light

Radiant, resentful, hindered, human

Who I come to be is meaningless;

Decomposing into mulch below,

Part of a system of rot and rebirth,

Feeding off remains of past seeds

In stories, not roots or dust

But songs of sprouts worlds away

Growing, gentle, nurtured, new

When I was a child

I dreamed of being free

Where I wouldn't bleed

And wasn't wilted

And couldn't break

And had not bruised

And knew no anger

And didn't silence

But How could a tree
Make a sound or a scream
With no one around
With no one to listen?