The tree speaks through varying creaks.

The trees outside
out there they spend their time
one with the wind
drinking in all the sin.

Today they’re naked
they starved themselves as the leaves fainted
Winter left Spring isn’t in bloom
as I look out the window of this little room
wondering do they look in
thinking does she know who she is within
yea I say
“I’m a mother by day
at night I close my eyes
as my brain hits overtime
inspiring me
to love what I see.”

The tree speaks
through varying creaks
“one day you’ll just be dirt
one with the Earth
no more than I
growing taller only I don’t wonder why
I simply know to survive
what’s it like to be human
riddled with contradiction
the knowledge of your destruction
being able to roam
being in control of choosing a home
fertilization in your hands
our seeds roam lands
by the wind
as you sit down to eat din
we the trees
provide oxygen for even the fleas
feeding on the skin
of your kin
yet we don’t question
we never need suggestion
because we know life lives on
and we accept our fate as life’s pawn.”

I reply “it sucks tree
we may roam but we are never free
tied down by consequence
tormented by our own arrogance
unable to accept the unfairness of life
unsure of how to make it right.”

As the tree stands there
waves a branch in the air
and says “life itself is fair
more fair than you are
organisms fail here and afar
creating, sparking, evolving
rather than indulging
upon just one
otherwise life as a whole would be outdone.”

The tree shakes its branch
“one more thought it’ll be the last
being human is where depression resides
you think, you complicate, you compete as everything else simply survives
growing from dirt
digging in dirt
you want so much more it hurts.”

As I stand in the kitchen
looking out the window bitching
in a tree pose
all the thoughts arose
and I’m like “yea thanks tree
only you don’t have to roam free
and and… “
fuck it I just smile
and close the curtain for awhile.

Thanks for reading.
-Temperamentally Tina

Published by Tina

I am a mother that is passionate about early education and a person that relieves stress through art, and writing.

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