We’re a family.
Many branches, many leaves, one tree.
It’s shady underneath this tree. But I’m too far away.
The shadows aren’t stretching. Strange.
The tree is shrinking, shrivelling.
How do I grow close?
I’m detached, dying.
On my own.
But, we’re a family. Aren’t we?
Look… Little shoots on the ground.
Trampled, squashed by un-thinking feet.
Do you see us?
No. Invisible.
Your arms are long, O family tree.
Yet, your reach is short.
You don’t want to grow anymore
happy in your bubble. Too much trouble.
I choke.
Somedays you pretend, and bend.
It just depends…
On what? On whom? On me?
I’m supposed to be free!
So be free.
OK.
The tree isn’t high, of far.
It’s actually close. Closer. Closest.
Shadows are long. Resting, peacefully.
I can be strong, because I’m wrong.
From little things, big things… you know?
If watered, nourished, replenished.
By love.
Love connects, corrects, protects.
Love reflects, so don’t deflect.
Branch out. Jump up. Grab on.
Belong.