Awakening

i never thought i deserved

to have

roots.

how can a fruit

dream

of stability

when its core was turned

rotten?

and the ground

yearns

for the rotted,

welcoming the

fall

into

an intoxicating aroma

of sorrow

solitude

and their sinister sister—suffering.

these women

willingly ravaged

my

supposed safe haven

and coerced the silence into

shattering

my universe.

gravity suffocated my

potential,

and forced me to

exist

beneath

it’s glass ceiling.

but do you know what has the

intrepidity

to break through

glass?

Roots.

and as i learned to

build

what could not have been

created innately,

i assembled piles of leaves

so immortal,

that the gods could not

rip them

from their branches.

those roots.

those are the ones

deserving of

me.