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Roots
Taking a cue from the Earth and her perfectly natural, yearly cycle
I've decided to make like a tree and turn over some new leaves.
Now that I'm a blossoming
I've got to say, my spindly, vascular limbs feel dangerously bare
I'm just an achey-breakey sapling
As my eyelets squint to see beyond my nourishing mother, my beloved horizon
As she sheds her linings.
As she zooms by me, and I stay rooted.
As I blink squint worry
As I perk myself up, and remember to breathe. And move my feet, because I'm a human
Not a tree.
Don't worry, the horizon is a benevolent God.
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