Haiku Heights: Tree

Uprooted tree from Storm Sandy (Photo credit: Arlington County)

Trunk ripped by its roots

flipped like the white of an egg

We crouch together.

*****

Once felt as sturdy

the tree weeps its bitter tears

and says I’m sorry

*****

Our small family

I brought you into this world

and helped you to grow.

*****

Like lovers soft limbs

branches intertwine with grace

Natural beauty.

Invisible

Image by bedrocan via Flickr

Yesterday, every injured step I took was painful

like I was walking on hot coals with my entire body broken into fleshy muscle, cracked bones and dangling limbs.

The old, blue carpeted stairs in my home offered no comfort,

I clutched the shaky wooden banister in order to move, very slowly, inch by inch.

I could not hide my pain to the three members of my family

and I told them I was in pain.

Perhaps they couldn’t see me or hear me through my gloomy, cloudy fog

for no one offered sympathy or support;

No one even acknowledged my pain or my cream-cheese face or lack of appetite.

My head pounded from the sound of relentless jackhammers inside me,

It was like I was throwing myself repeatedly against the same jagged edges of a mirror,

Cutting myself, dripping with bright red blood all over my pale fleshy body.

I told them I was in pain,

Yet no one seemed to hear me.