Without a soil

…

I am a tree without a soil,

Looking for somewhere to place my roots.

Lest I perish.

Lest they burn my the barks of my soul.

My movement got heavy,

when I was nurtured in your ground.

And once I was plucked out so suddenly, so viciously

I remained hung without a sound.

Confused by leftover nutrients,

unable to comprehend the grandiosity of the pluck,

not until I needed to move.

Not until I ran out of luck.

Every stump breaks some branches,

every dig dries me more

Suffocatingly, I remain in limbo,

carving stones for a taste of home.

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