I was a tree




~*~


I was a tree. With my roots settled deep down in the earth. My branches and leafs, waiving in the wind, still longing for somewhere new. But I traveled across water and seas. And cut down, without roots or leafs, I long for home. Some thick and heavy ground, though full of pain and worries, to settle back in. But not many trees grow roots again in old earth. Or even fresh. They die off. Left forgotten, burned, or turned into a pictureframe. Maybe I should become a table, or beter, a cupboard. Something stable, with thick solid legs, weighing down on the floor, the earth. Heavy, as if no one can move me from my home. And designed beautifully, so that nobody would even want to. Than, like a tree, I can settle myself somewhere. And stand up big and proud again.

The thing is, you never stop longing for you do not have yet. For what you want or what you've lost. And I guess, no matter what shape a tree takes and how happy it is being something new.. it never stops longing for the roots it lost. And that makes it so hard to feel at home.


~*~





19 jun 2009 - bewerkt op 19 jun 2009 - meld ongepast verhaal
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Arienette, vrouw, 36 jaar
   
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