Speaking as a tree
I am a branch;
fallen from an old old mesquite
by the forces of nature.
I have been able to grow my own roots,
but no branches of my own.
I pretend though,
that branches around me which belong to other tress
are actually those of my own.
Or that I too, belong to their same tree.
All in vain.
For they know not how it feels
to be a fallen branch
grown into the ground as a branch-less tree.
Speaking as a body of water
I am a creek
with aspirations of one day
becoming a full running river
with rapids
and life.
I’ve only been able to collect small stones and pebbles though,
from other larger rocks
which belong to much larger rivers.
You see,
speaking as myself
I am just that.
Myself.
To me, you as a branch
belong on my tree.
You as a rock, a boulder,
belong in my river.
You are my blood
my family.
But to you,
I am just me.
Just a friend that you have chosen.
I am a slave to your acceptance,
a servant of your attention,
a begger on the streets of your acknowledgement.
“You can choose your friends,
but not your family.”
But what if your family
and you,
were never given the chance
to not have a complete choice?
What if the forces of nature
knocked you just a few feet from your tree,
only enough to look upon that tree,
but too far to be connected?
Learning your place
in other’s hearts can be hard.
Especially when you see them as your veins,
and they will only ever see you as a hair style.
Of course they would never shave their head,
but your role,
your appearance
and your importance
in their life
is completely up to them.
Always changing,
depending upon the affairs of the night
as to whether you should be worn up
or down.
- Matthew Allan Cuellar
Read much more of my poetry here- http://hellopoetry.com/-matthew-cuellar/
