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A Branch Tale

remember

By Jada FergusonPublished about a month ago 1 min read

The wind never let me be still

I swayed

-

The kids stepped on me

I drooped

-

The squirrels scurried across me

I dangled

-

Strands of my flesh splintering off

With each interaction

-

I fall

-

On a date unknown

Undocumented

-

My roots could tell the tale of me

Of my agony

My confusion

My cells had sent messages of fury to them

-

But I had not been met with a response

My roots had weathered their storm

And expected me

A branch

to do the same

-

Not absorbing that though I was of them

I was not them

I was not roped into the Earth

-

I was just a thing protruding out of its' trunk

More susceptible to wear and tear

-

My roots thought I could live

in a way they couldn't

That I would know ease

in a way they didn't

-

And maybe I could have

Maybe I could have been immovable and fruitful

A staple in my community

-

Perhaps

-

With more time

More knowledge

More nurturing

-

-

But on the ground

I have been demoted

From a branch to a mere stick

-

My roots bellow

-

I am thrown thousands of miles away

Burned for amusement

Scraped along metal

Urinated on

-

My roots wail

-

I am bewildered

Despondency is my identity

-

My roots transmit tailormade pulsations

-

I remember

surreal poetry

About the Creator

Jada Ferguson

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