More Than a Tree
I tried to write a poem about a tree one day
Even though I knew it was cliché.
I wanted to talk about roots that run deep
Beside a river that never sleeps.
About storms that come to rage and blow,
And broken branches under heavy snow.
I wanted to write with intricate rhymes
About beautiful days and difficult times.
And how through drought and floods it still firmly stands
Still catching the sunlight with leafy hands.
Bent, but not broken, day after day
Refusing to stop lifting arms to pray.
I wanted to write about a tree,
Turns out, I was writing about me.
I hear that, son. I hear that.
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