Roots

Roots (By Cat Matchuk)

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Photo by Andrew Matchuk.

In the middle of a headache
I imagine my nerves are the roots of a tree.

They are electric
They can be ripped out from the dirt, and
timber
spill my body.

In the middle of this chaos
I pretend I’m floating in the ocean.

It’s cold
I’m weightless, the water will
sink
pull me down.

In the silence of the night’s sky
I imagine the brightest star.

It’s blinding
It guides the way for the lost wanderers,
the drifters,
to let go.

Nursing the white-hot pain of my nerves
I imagine being ripped away,
Then I imagine the roots of the tree,
They are strong,

I can tear down stone.

Poetry

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