We can only climb as high,
As low as we can sink.
I love how you keep my head in the sky,
And never put a reign on the power of think.
I grew roots into soil I never wanted;
In turn, it grew m branches uncharted.
Roots were equated with horror before:
Trapped; Stagnant; Solitary; Confined.
But roots are equated with horror no more:
Balanced; Safe; Unwavering; Nourished.
For without its roots, a poor tree would topple,
Fall heavy, unable to reclaim its stance.
Without its roots, a poor tree is simply hobble.
Roots allow her branches toward the sky to dance.