| » Poem: Broken Branches |
Broken Branches
written by soimpossible133904:55 AM 1/9/05I sit alone in the dark corner of my room, watching as the rain drips down the window in tiny streams. I hear it beating on the ground in a steady procession. The lightning strikes a nearby tree, lighting up the sky as the branch comes crashing down to the ground. I am the tree branch.
Standing strong in the daylight as the sun shines down on me, I look at the beautiful world around me. I bask in the sun’s rays, and admire the earth. A slight breeze blows; the day is perfect. But then night falls. Darkness envelops the sky and the sun disappears into the mountains. The cold, shining moon peaks out behind hazy clouds that are ready to burst at any moment. Rain begins to pour from the clouds and I am alone once again. Thunder rolls through the sky, and the lightning strikes a few times. Finally, it hits me. I fall to the ground, cold and defeated.
I watch the branch lying on the ground, and slide my window up. I stick my hand out and let the drops beat down on it. The tears have escaped now. I am that branch in every aspect. Slowly, I inch my arm out farther, letting the cool rain beat down on it.
Before I know it, I am outside. The rain mixes with my freely falling tears and it’s impossible to tell them apart now. The rain beats down against my back, my head, and my shoulders. I look towards the sky, to where the broken limb was once attached to the towering tree. The jagged edges protrude from the tree in sharp, menacing pieces. What is left is nothing but callousness. My eyes move to the tree branch lying in the grass, broken and weak.
Fresh tears well in my eyes when I realize this is me. This is all I am- a broken tree limb. Day after day I have fun. Night after night is spent looking out the window, crying over something new. Every night I am left in pieces- split between callousness and weakness. The line between the two is so blurred by now; I couldn’t tell anyone how I was feeling at any given time.
I walk to the branch, bending down to examine it. I peel back the rough bark, revealing a smooth, soft, wood inside. I run my hand along that part as the rain soaks it. I am definitely this branch. |
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Author's footnotes and comments on this Poem:
hmm...not really of the poem sort...but whatev :)
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