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Saturday, November 7, 2015

Stuck. (a poem)




Stuck,
like a tree whose roots have sunk deeply
into the earth where it stood-
Unaffected by the gentle push of the wind,
who daily stopped by
to say its greetings.
How it longed to go, too, like the wind-
roaming freely about,
with no one to doubt
its reason.

How absurd a scene to watch a tree blow by,
or how fearful a sight
to see it float in the sky.
Ridiculous for it to fly.

So, it remains,
stuck.

Unable to move from the very spot it was planted.
All around it things changed.
People grew... cities, too.
It heard the laughter of children, 
cries of the needy,
the screeching tires of people in a hurry
to move, to go-

How it longed to go, too.
Speeding past the norm,
from the view that had bored it.
How foolish a thought... a tree to drive down the road,
how ridiculous an idea to see it pick up and go,
wherever it chose.

So, it stood,
stuck.

Firmly rooted in this place,
longing to be where it wasn't... anywhere it wasn't.
Some land where the hills were rolling,
where the mountains were showing.
A country whose culture it had yet to see...
Foods not yet smelled...
To be on a sea listening to an exaggerated seaman's tale.

How impossible a wish!
It could never be.
There's only ever one spot, just one spot, 
for a tree.

So, it stood,
stuck.

It watched the sunrise and viewed the moon
take ownership of the sky.
Stars would glisten and sometimes fall.
Clouds would form and slowly pass by.
Birds would land, nest, then fly away.
Time taught them when to leave, 
and when it was time, they'd go.

How it longed to go, too.
It would return, but oh!
to see an uncharted territory,
a place not found in a memory.
To hear the sound of Amazon rain!
But, insane
it is to think such a thought.

A tree cannot travel. A tree cannot search.
A tree has big purpose, 
but only few can it serve.
It will remain in one place, rooted in the ground,
unless someone comes and cuts it down.
Its dependence rests on others around.
Unable to choose a course for itself, 
a path picked by another is all its allowed.
Anytime it moves it relies on a crowd
to get it where its going.
No thought for itself.

It must remain,
stuck.

Unless another deems it convenient to move it.
No changing, lest someone else sees fit.

So, it waits,
stuck.

Needing someone else to come and deliver...
someone else to free...

You blink your eyes twice to awaken from this daydream.
Then let out a sigh when you picture your reality.
Still in this season, no difference to claim.
This place that you're in is unhappy and bleak,
and its where you'll remain.
Life rolls past you, opportunities kiss your cheek.
You feel a slight rush, you feel your excitement peak.
Fear holds you back, tightly in place,
unable to move or create your own way.

Waiting for assurance from those who will never give it,
You live it...
This life with such limits.
You must know! Open your eyes and see...

You, my friend.
You are not a tree.


 photo http___signatures.mylivesignature.com_54493_149_74B4BA3EDF05595B4757904AA65EEE8C_zpsgtx9jcgj.png

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