The Pruning Hurt

rooted in soil that feeds the decay

when blossoms were blooming, they were all cut away

the veins meant for growth, often feeling betrayed

when the limbs were too weak to bear that kind of weight

**

to salvage life, a much needed, self propagation

those family ties, needed a clean castration

with love and peace and careful aeration

now steeped in love and a new foundation

**

do what you must, with the full tale untold

imagination bends, with the saving of souls

sacrificing the branch to keep the roots whole

there are no wounds to heal, without bullet holes

**

another field, another grove, full of trees

too soon to discount the becoming of me

whatever it brings know that I'm finally free

to display my branches, without the shade of that tree