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[env0writes]

A Gust of Wind Vol.3, 8.2.23 “Children of the Root"

I was born to split my parents rotted roots That hollowed out trunk I festered in As a scrawny, scratchy wound Sticky with sorrowful sap The world was burning when I was born From the midday death of July Ash-rich soil, littered in concrete cracks What a little weed I was Crumble and fall sickly stumps When the woodchips flake As ash in the wind, A spark is needed I’ll be there– with outstretched arms Above the fanning flames that still burn Hollowing even me, to be split one day With sticky, sorrowful sap within The garbage dump was a distant pile Now around me litters of weeds Suffocate in smoke and ash Still burning I was born to split my parents rotted roots Grow strong and tall in spite of– One strong word is all it will take Although the sun will kiss my leaves and Rain will sooth my soil These roots do not run deep in clayed earth One strong word and in that gale I may come crashing down Into the still burning death of July What sanguine satisfaction is supremely had? Should I fall? Is it failure to strengthen the soil? Be food, for thought, for whats fought for? I was born to split my parents rotted roots and Reach my limbs up high High above the clouds and stars The unfathomable heights And pull. Pull so great, and mighty Whisper mighty stories to my buds Flourish each ending with flowery prose Pull the clouds beneath my boughs So that maybe one day This fire may smolder When I’m a little older–the world May not require rootsplitting children So when the cool morning breeze Shakes dew from the dandelions They’ll be carried out past the stars Finding root in some distant world That’s never known sickly scratched sap– Nor born witness to its spreading flame

@env0writes C.Buck Ko-Fi & Venmo: @Zenv0 Support Your Local Artist! Photo by @mynamemeanscloud

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