The Arborist

Tending to the tree I love

The Arborist

 

I worry for you

like I would a sick tree,

the countless broken promises

like broken branches,

the lies like blight,

the subordination like drought,

the endless words,

brought down like hatchets to your roots.

 

You can't hear a tree scream

and I worry that you are internalizing,

pushing down the pain

standing rigid in the face of attacks,

rings are forming inside you

so you can count the years of pain

but all of these symptoms that I list

can kill the most solid tree.

 

The maple can fall to the darted words,

the oak cannot withstand the barrage of diseased implications,

the Sycamore will grow crooked and die under the lash of years of pavlovian rule.

 

The sickest of tree's can be tended

and live.

Trust the arborist in your life

let him help you find the water and light

of the love that we have

that your kids have for you

remember that you are not alone

you are a tree amongst a forest

and I am the Arborists of our love.