Heather Roach
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Blame
We come to each other on broken wings. We burden each other with broken things. We settle upon branches of dying trees, in the middle of a forest with dying bees. We swim in the rivers of our own decay, and blame all the others for it being this way. We see all the problems, but we have few. We say that we're one but we act as two. We talk of our sorrows, ignoring those of others. We live on tomorrows, and forsake our own brothers. We seek out highs, yet we live so low. We talk about knowledge, but we don't really know. We cry into our pillows when life gets rough. We cut down all the willows to build more stuff. We live on a planet that has become a cage. We speak of elation, but only know rage. We are the only species that has damned ourselves. Stocking our stores; emptying our shelves. We come to each other with so many words. And at the end of it all... We'll die with the birds.
By Heather Roach6 years ago in Poets
Self Reflection
When you understand how we grow like a toxic and invasive vine amongst each other, devouring each flower just before it blooms to fill ourselves, then you will understand why it is so important to tend to your own vine first. We are supposed to be pruning ourselves instead of eating the fruits of those around us. Stake yourself firm in your own soil. Grow deep roots and broad leaves, drink plenty of water, and feed yourself from the nutrients of your own decaying culls. Grow better fruit this way and you free up the space around your neighbor so they too may stretch their leaves further towards the light that is the source of our strength. <3
By Heather Roach6 years ago in Poets
