A poem for the trees that held me
By: Reagan E. J. Jackson
3/18/19
the forest breathes for me
when i am
overserved on this American tragedy
gut shot and white girl wasted
on 100 proof black girl sorrow
with a rage chaser
these trees prop me up
so i don’t asphyxiate on my own bitterness
they water me
gather the jagged seams of me close
and suck the poison from my pores
whisper softly into my skin
their memories
stories of timeless resilience
lullabies of roots stretched deep
of standing and withstanding
through seasons of flourish and leafy bough
of bare and brittle
and the thawing in between
they share stories
of their own tragedies
of blight and animal
of storms that bend and break
of lightening strike and shatter
and those who simply laid down
in weariness
and the soft earth that caught them
how even the fallen found new life
as moss and flowered ivy
repurpose and adorn their corpses
with them i am found
my own roots remembered
the pieces of my heart seeded and planted
to be grown again
i leave this place
fresh shoots and budding
grateful for having had the respite
of being held
by the trees.
