Roots Remember Branches Dream

Roots Remember. Branches Dream

Roots remember the scars that bloomed in the dark.

They hold me when the earth shakes and I fall apart.

My roots never sleep; they move beneath me.

They carry old memories carved into headstones.

My roots try to pull my towards a dark place. I swore I would never return.

The tangled history-it grips the dark.

The half healed wounds. The voices buried deep.

Some nights I feel them crawl up my spine. They try to remind me of everything I want to forget.

Branches dream and tremble, pulling me up.

I hear them call my name, like a siren’s song.-

A future I am afraid to meet.

A light too fragile, too far.

Will I ever deserve the light?

Still the wind twist, its whispers hollow.

A warning sign shaped from madness.

My branches aches from a weight they never asked to carry. From storms they never asked to weather.

I am the tree caught in between.

Roots caught in the soil of the past. Branches looking for a way out. A trunk holding the tension of everything seen.

But haunted things can survive.

Haunted things can rise.

So, every night I have a lullaby sung by the whispers of my roots.

And every morning my branches reach for the sun….

And I remain

Not because the world is kind.

But because I have learned to love my darkness. I embrace everything I am.

With every darkness comes light