I am a moving tree,
With roots reaching beyond known miles-
Suckling from sources
To refute the choices of denial-
Where I stand there is no still,
I stand in mother mode,
A peace of ignorance
Correcting, protecting, doing my best to love-
Exhausted, confused, internally treading on emotions of-
Nodding my head numb and kindly.
That stretch of cord over there,
Belongs to humanity-
Or what I believe it used to be-
The part that clings to integrity and character,
Genuine caring and honest laughter-
Lifting others without the need of fame,
Recognizing heroes that do the same-
Being grateful there are no needs unmet,
Astonished at the greedy whose hearts are set-
Never fulfilled never enough,
Having it “all” must be tough.
This thick one over on this side;
Is that enemy I try to hide-
The survivor that’s healing,
And in very many ways currently grieving-
What was yanked away before I ever got it,
Because i didn’t have the comprehension for that emotional audit-
Learning to direct what feelings equally belong,
To the action tagging along.
This smaller root that seems to be withering,
Is only cautiously hibernating-
Stagnant in its lack of decision making,
Frozen on that line of alternating-
In parts of our world that wish me dead,
Or the half that wants me fed-
The choice fused together,
So there imagines no answer.
One last line of attachment,
The one that keeps me breathing-
The only one consistently reaching-
Is the original fulfillment cord,
That only comes from my Father Lord.
He who set me with a purpose I cannot see,
But in my soul I just believe-
Though in this nasty sinful place,
It’s simple to make yourself a piece of waste-
But that is man’s unbelief,
For in His image I was conceived.