The branches lead out from here.
The branches lead out from everywhere,
Entangling in a beauty that few see.
Flowing from branch to branch, root to root.
Entwining and holding and slipping and grasping.
Trying to make a bind that’s everlasting.
The branches get torn, cut, burned.
Leaving that slow branch to yearn.
As much as others try to steal,
As much as they try to keep away.
There’s something the vindictive always miss,
The gentle brush of a kiss,
As roots feel out blindly in the dark.
Nothing can stop the need to feel
The need to seek out under earth,
To drink, to eat, to breathe, to hold.
To grip the dirt between your toes.
A connection that isn’t seen,
So it’s never broken.
The emotion flowing from another’s eyes
That isn’t spoken.
But always felt.