A tree sits in the middle of a forest,
Hydrophobic,
It fears the rain.
Its bark is coarse,
Its roots withered,
It has no leaves,
And its branches point down,
Toward the ground.
The tree does this by choice,
For itβs afraid of change,
And if not changing is the one thing it can control,
Itβll hold it to the end.
When the rain pours,
The tree refuses the water,
Spits it toward its fellow trees,
Whose leaves dance in the windy breeze.
They always saw the little tree as strange.
Why did it willingly starve itself?
What did it gain?
It always looked so sad,
All alone,
Yet this was the life that it chose.
As the little tree grew older,
It watched as its fellow trees grew tall,
And oh, so green.
Their changing leaves,
Their branches and berries,
That the birds would love to eat.
How it envied,
Oh, it envied.
It uprooted itself,
As its dying roots clung to life,
It walked all on its own,
To find another home.
It started to wonder if the rain was worthy of his fear,
Or if it was overthinkingβagain.
Was the future a mountain or a molehill?
Only time will tell.
How the little tree wished it could control every detail,
Save itself from suspense,
Always knowing what comes next.
Unfortunately,
Life doesnβt work that way,
A lesson the tree would have to learn,
And accept,
To find brighter days.
The tree planted itself in a garden,
Filled with flowers,
Of many hues,
Reds,
Greens,
Yellows,
And blues.
Even though the nearby birds,
Would chirp and coo,
It did little,
To ease the little treeβs
Lonely blues.
Yet as it gazed,
Amidst the pretty colors,
Of the flowers,
He thought of the fellow trees.
He wondered,
If this was the way life was meant to be.
After all,
These flowers would die come winter,
And grow again come spring,
And they would be just a goregous,
And marvelous,
The second time around.
Eureka!
Purpose and acceptance,
Finally found.
The little tree looked to the sky,
A thunderstorm was on its way.
He could hear the crackle of the lightning,
As a house was set unto a blaze.
The tree tightened down his roots,
He wouldnβt be afraid.
Perhaps if he believed,
He would be okay.
After all,
The other trees thrived off the rain,
It caused their leaves to grow,
And eased their decay.
Perhaps,
He was running from the wrong thing.
Perhaps,
His biggest villain wasnβt change.
Perhaps,
Life would be okay.
The rain came like a hurricane,
And the tree absorbed the water,
Having starved and thirsted for so long,
And as the sky cleared to the sunshine,
He heard the birdβs sweet songs.
His leaves grew majestically,
The berries tasted so sweet,
The birds who ate them,
Devoured even the seeds.
The tree felt fulfilled,
He had found his place,
And though he still feared the future,
And change,
He believed everything would be okay.
Going back to my normal style for this one. 16 years old. Wow, it's hard to believe. This poem highlights how I feel about the world about most things. If it isn't obvious, the tree is me. I'm anxious about most things, constantly fearing I'll fail. Driving is the worst though, too much power in my shaking hands. Hope you guys like this one!!
