she stands as straight as she can

similar to a twisted tree trunk rooted in the earth

rough

strong

but weathered from the elements of life and world.

she feels her roots seeking nourishment.

she prays for and craves the healing and cleansing water from the sky

but she waits

and waits

a few drops fall occasionally upon her leaves and boney branches.

the bark of her skin soak up what it can

but not enough falls to penetrate the earth that keeps her planted.

she feels like maybe she's dying.

maybe there isn't enough to keep her alive.

until, she feels familiar roots that grow

intertwining with hers.

she can't see who wraps around her underneath

but she hears something in the dark hour that visits often.

it's a simple something

a something that sounded and felt like, "i am here."

 

she takes a breath

 

she starts to cry

 

and she is fed