Roots

The pear trees have surrendered.

Their blossoms, once lifted by the wind of laughing hopeful children, now lay limp on the dry ground.

The little ones that used to dance around the young tree have grown up. They have been taught better now and the white trees have faded into their forgetfulness.

 

but the roots remain

 

anxiety. worry. heartbreak. just some of the effects

 

obsessed with finding the being of their imagination. They long for their deep-rooted hope to come into fruition. They’ve wished it into existence again and again

 

Now they spend their days alone trying to force the memory of the beautiful white trees out of their history. They are angry at the lingering roots that laugh at shattered dreams of love. They shift the earth trying to pull them up, all to no avail.

 

the roots remain

 

I know what they want because I am one of them. Can this world hold onto something so fragile and untainted without shattering it?

 

maybe we’ve lost sight of the point. maybe the roots are there to protect our future

 

The trees from our youth struggle to live on. How can they thrive when the only nourishment they receive is neglect?

 

The differences between you and me are endless. why do I search for myself in you?

Maybe if I realized that the truest of validations was always there. right in front of me. inside me, I could’ve spared us both.

 

But the roots remain.

 

There is still a gravitational pull holding the shifting earth together. I don’t know how it arrived. but I know when it did.

 

Maybe I can believe that the pull is there to protect the roots. Or maybe the roots protect the attraction. The roots that keep the dreams alive.

 

All I can do now is nourish the trees from my youth. get past the fright of facing them. enough to love them.

 

sometimes not knowing how the blooms will unfurl is worth the fear that they will not come at all. with the history that speaks volumes, i think it’s safe to say

 

The roots will remain

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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