Thursday 21 June 2012

Wind in my Leaves

You are the root of every tree.
I begin to climb, higher and higher
until rooftop reflection glitters in my eyes.
From here I see our whole world,
as small and unimportant as it is, it was ours.
The home where you grew up,
the field where we used to play,
every leaf on this oak grew here—like us.
It stood in storms and silence,
swaying in the solitude of the wind.
Spreading its arms to reach for a neighbor,
a confidant to grow beside,
like you and I—inseparable
as the roots of this tree to the earth.

Until the day they came for you
with their axes and saws,
their casket and cloak. I screamed
but no one heard; trapped
behind these thick layers of bark.
They locked me inside,
but I picked the lock and sprinted
to your house.  You were gone.
They found me on your floor
clenching your Simba, rugged and worn
from the way you would swing him by his ears.
I wouldn’t let go; it was all I had left.

I can't escape the emptiness of every day
or how to comprehend the agony in my chest.
My truest friend, our pinky-sworn plans,
every undiscovered inch of this world
will have to wait until we meet again.
Each ticking second
feels like it will last forever—time lingers.
I’m growing weak by week,
I need to see you;
I climb.  Up here, in our place
among the treetops, I feel you and
I know you are here—veiled in the breeze.