My Roots

I am my people
my people are me
is is possible to love the roots
and not love the tree
to love the roots that are strong and deep
while my branches seem weak
my pressure is wearing down on me
but it;s my people that hold me
I can never despise my origins
or say their name in curse
for they have allowed me to live well
while they bored on the worst
but yet I am afraid to grow
worried that my branches will bend and bow
my roots told me to march higher
to see me rise to the heavens
is their only desire
I yelled, who will protect me when the storms appears
to be left in the daybreak with broken limbs
only your roots would still be here
The roots replied we fed you when you were a seedling
we bled from you like syrup from a sapling
helped mend you when you broke your branches
and cried a river when your relatives
went down in ashes
our love for you need not be said
for every tree ring that we wed
we live through you
that is the nature of our roots
we are you
and you are we