Rungs for Birds

The process of growing branches
looks painful,
brutal even.
I gaze up
at this tree
and the branches are
spears.
Did they erupt from the tree
  in ecstasy,
or were they received
with much pain?
Does the tree grow from Within,
or Without?
Does she grow by accepting the assault
  and standing tall?
  Still.
  Resolute.
Or does she send forth these spears from
Within—
the warring parts of her bursting outwards,
away from and against
  herself,
  delivering,
breaking through what is not right in her—
  creating rungs for birds
  and other unenlightened creatures
to grab hold of
as they rest
  and prepare
to grow
  themselves?

Photo by the author
Jen Maynard Campbell
Jen Maynard Campbell
Jen Maynard Campbell is an emerging poet in her forties. She uses poetry as a catalyst for healing in this crazy world.

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