Curse Me

Curse Me                                                        

Too many opinions

growing this forest

uninformed

desert dry

they steal half truths

dew in the morning

and drink it up

like rainstorms

Care for the oldest oak

becomes unmanageable

too many rings

heavy

deep roots

we are crushed by the load

of our own identities

The tree falls

and no one hears

over the thunder

of wooden words

It’s time to disembark

move on from this familial grove

and if the leaves I rarely see

wish to damn my name

for as long as their wind will blow

they have my blessing

October 5, 2014

Tressa Lee Breen