The next time I love, it’ll be with one rooted down firmly next to me.
Our roots sharing the same sweet water, branches grazing against one another. Our love will be side by side, facing each other. The storms my bark has weathered remains strong, but not strong enough to survive another love carried to me by the wind, from far away places. I can’t rely on the distance any longer. The pollinators flying between, the moon whispering sweet nothings. Time isn’t enough any more. The canopy of my tree seeks warmth through the sunshine and the embrace of nature. The musings of some future doesn’t cut it, the past speaks of reality, the present something to be felt, not wished away. Planting seeds all around me, I’ll wait. But not for you, or for some, or for another. I’ll wait for the changes I’ve made to find solid ground and spread the tendrils until I’ve unraveled, unraveled into what I’ve been searching for. Myself, only bigger. Growing into a taller tree, 6 feet and beyond. I’ll accept no one else’s version of me, only my own, whatever that may be. And then when I’ve decided I'll never stopping growing, my roots will meet yours. We will tangle together until the option of separation isn’t an option, or a possibility, or a breath of an idea that lasts even a second. And when the time comes for my rings to stop spreading and the trunk of my tree to sigh a deep relief, I’ll be comforted knowing I didn’t wait for someone to tell me when a good time to grow is. No one gave me permission to reach for the sky and feels it’s soft kiss. After so much torment, I gave my own consent and lifted my head to meet the clouds. My branches tired of holding up proud, I’ll dwindle away next to you and together we’ll find our way into a small cabin, lighting a fire, keeping our home warm.
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Author's note:Hi, I'm Helen. Welcome to Lifted ~ I write to lift myself up. Archives
June 2021
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