Roots, shoots, twigs, and leaves
I am each and every one of these
And really, have I even lived unless I know
What it feels like to have had them broken?
To have had them plucked from me like the very insides of me are being chosen specifically to be
It took me a better part of three decades to learn
That I'm also trunk, branch, bark, and weeds
I can birth new saplings from the hardened skin I grow
And shed what is diseased and what must go
I am planted, grounded, and I've learned to pick up and leave
I know how to change colors if I'm put in that position
I know how to soak up the rain, I know how to brave a famine
I can grow in the wettest crevices and the most hostile of sand
And I know how to spread love without being asked, I know how to change as seasons demand
I reserve the right to choose to wilt
I am entitled to house every bird and the nest they've built
So what if I'm the y of the x?
So what if I don't know what's next?
So what if I have to uproot to become free?
So what if all my branches don't understand me?
Yes, I will break and wilt and wither
After all, I am twigs, branches, and weeds
I am shoots, trunk, and bark
But I will also begin again,
And I know how to restart -
Because, you see,
I'm also seeds.