Clenched Teeth, Furrowed Brow

Somehow,
I will myself
firm to the ground.

Clenched teeth
and furrowed brow,
my feet, like roots,
press the earth
and push it

down.

Am I an
ancient tree?

I am petrified…
so, maybe.

My branches break.

Daily.

Windless storms
sway me,
to and fro,
betraying the grip
my roots, my toes,
have on the
earth below.

Eventually,
the storm will
rip me
from the earth

and I’ll float away,

into that
blackest
of

places.


©️ CGT, 2018.

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