I wish I could tell you,
and have you understand—
that you are you,
and I am me.

We put so many years between us,
and in all that time, you’ve changed nothing,
while I’ve had to change everything about me.

Just please understand—
I am a locust,
and you are a tree.

I lay dormant for years,
by your side, if only by circumstance.
I shed my skin again and again,
while you sat still—
unrelenting in your ways,
unmoving through the seasons,
resistant to the surrounding decay.

I pray you understand,
as I only have this to say—
you and I were born in the same forest,
and you expected me to stay?