Tree

 

Tree

Naked.
Tall.
Raw.
Hands reaching to clouds.
Head cloudy.
Radiant.
Rooted.
Ancient.
Look,
a tree is calling my name
In this busy city
in these dark streets
stained with
blood
loneliness
Pills
Prostitues
Dead drunks in gutters
Shit
Piss
And a Tree is calling my name
In this mayhem
I go to the Tree
touch its body
and sit beneath it
and cry
and my tears
turn to leaves
leaves open to the sun
Sun pours down like honey
a Tree is calling my name in this city
and I am not lonely no more
dipped in honey
naked
raw
rooted
one with life.

10.14.16
Peyman
Washington, D.C.

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