TAKEN (Poetry of a Tree)

Plucked in haste

With a promise 

Of a new face

I was molded

And painted

I never asked 

To be broken

Into many pieces

Just to be crumpled

Or walked on

To be shred 

Or rained on

Many like me

Witnessed the same  

A worthy cause

Or a worthless game?  

We were objects

Of your desire 

We were reason

To conspire

More takings 

Were granted

Less seedlings 

Were planted

I filled your  

Shelter and bowl

With my crushed 

And wasted soul 

If only I knew how 

To go back

For I had already

Lost track

You see 

I didn't branch out

I fell off 

From me

But now 

My roots 

Have spoken

They summon me

In hopes of being 

Set free

I long to return  

To my place of birth

Or the home 

You used to call

Earth

J.C.

 Photo by Tatyana Leksikova