I'm going to do something I never do and post one of my own poems for poem of the week. I've had a few of the other poets on here ask to see some of my work, so I decided now was a good time to do that. Plus, this poem reflects my mood today.
Roots
by Sara Crawford
Standing on the edge of something I can’t see,
Inching dangerously close,
hugging a tree that
stands next to the lumberjack,
its roots are in danger so they
wrap themselves
around
my frail
body
and now we coexist…
somewhere in the mist.
Can you please sneak inside
and tell me what tomorrow
looks like?
Do you see me falling
into this tree? Blood spilling
into the bark until flesh
intertwines
with leaves, rooting
bones into soil?
Do you see me falling somewhere else?
A pair of uneasy lips meet, igniting,
flying into something outside of
ourselves?
Or something less glamorous?
No falling at all?
A cup of coffee and the morning paper…
watching the sun emerge
from the horizon,
more sure of himself than I
will ever be.
Roots
by Sara Crawford
Standing on the edge of something I can’t see,
Inching dangerously close,
hugging a tree that
stands next to the lumberjack,
its roots are in danger so they
wrap themselves
around
my frail
body
and now we coexist…
somewhere in the mist.
Can you please sneak inside
and tell me what tomorrow
looks like?
Do you see me falling
into this tree? Blood spilling
into the bark until flesh
intertwines
with leaves, rooting
bones into soil?
Do you see me falling somewhere else?
A pair of uneasy lips meet, igniting,
flying into something outside of
ourselves?
Or something less glamorous?
No falling at all?
A cup of coffee and the morning paper…
watching the sun emerge
from the horizon,
more sure of himself than I
will ever be.