Along the Embankment of my Youth

Along the cracked embankment in the safety of my youth,

beneath a tree that grew with me and roots that drank the tide.

Carved in its bark were initials, scratched by my mother-

Declared a daughter, a young disciple, loyal to her, grateful for life.

Ever-changing adolescence lay beneath my feet like mossy beds and

flora well-fed with the rain and dews of spring twisting and turning.

Growing like my river tree, my mother watched until I was ready and

heaved her burdens on my back until I sank

into the mud. She saw my cry and lay back to die, unable to

justify exactly why, perhaps hoping for a partner in her miseries.

Killed by hopelessness, I could speculate.

Lost in darkness, I sat and waited, watching

moons pass over, all at once until her body reduced to bone.

Never did I think I’d carry my mother’s world of pain

on my back until I saw my childhood tree took my given name.

Portrayed as blank, no longer tied to my

Queen. My mother. My martyr.

Rains of change began to loosen me,

slowly the tide came and chewed away

the mud around my knees. I twisted and turned to break the bind,

until I saw my feet appear, intact like my soul and mind.

Veins throbbing above my eye as I replaced her burden with a knife and

wandered back up to my tree to carve an

"X." Nothing and everything. Whoever I wanted to be.

Yarrow welcomed my tired soul as I lay back to reach the

Zenith.