I ask to be planted
into the earth
like an ancient
tree,

so that I may
shed my leaves
in the fall
and grow
new skin
every Spring

I envy the
Oak, Birch and
Ash, ancient
trunks that do
not stain with
the agony
that lingers
in the air

palpable

the rain
is full of
it and yet
they do not
wither and
decay

root me
in the dirt
so that I may
too, feel
pain

and survive it