Mine is the seventh generation to live in this place
None can dispute my foundation has a stable base
But I'd trade stability for the thrill of it all
To be forever perched on a precarious fall
For, now, never to venture even a mile from home
My roots allow no room to roam
Sure, people leave only to be pulled back again
After all, war, work, and women call to a man like sin
But this land is bred deep in bone and blood
And I'm tired of being caked in its mud
As a child, the grit of the dirt made me grin
But, now, I'd like to wash the past off my skin
A farmer can feed many off the fruits of this land
But I simply have more planned
Now, as I walk away, I am stripped bare
And I feel the weight of expectation heavy on my back like a stare
I even hear the hum of this prayer on their lips
Yet, I finally feel free as I slip from their grips
YOU ARE READING
A Tree Takes Root
Poetrya tree takes root out of the seeds that were sown as deep in the forest a new life is grown
