Without Shame

We do not say we are sorry
For size and stature,
We do not fracture a single limb
So that we can climb up higher,
Heaven is a beatitude of Nature’s daily grace,
We rise up tall and proud, stand still
As trees
Do not compete
Or feel the need to defeat
Any kind, as we all are kin—
If we sin
We say that we are sorry, for we are mortal
And it is the eternal Wind that blows these seeds in every which way—
Who are we to question
These gifts bestowed to us and those that aren’t ours given to others in our likeness?
Let that be the lesson,
Let us learn
To foster firmness of inner grounding
For it is the founding
On which we can finally rest
Our stretched out limbs and display these vibrant leaves of true beauty—
Let us come to know, with certainty
That it is this
And only this
That leads
To the sprout up of more tiny, little seeds of magic
That need only reach out and touch the source of all enchantment, before realizing their own—
An innate oath
Trees nurturing growth
Take seriously:
Feeling the upward pull of downward root
Between the soot of lineal ghosts
Coursing through the hardened hosts of communal soul that comes with age,
We feed the strength of perpetual, collective being that sits in meditation underground,
Pumping life into every vein,
Easing stirs in the windy misdirect of inner whispers inside of saplings not yet fully themselves,
When we are still and standup tall and proud
And do not say that we are sorry, for truth
We represent ourselves in full, individually and collectively
Providing shade where it is needed,
Allowing for the sitting seeds to come unseated,
Standup, tall and proud,
Defeat fear all by themselves and proclaim, with all their might
Their rights
To birth
Unearth
Self worth
And let in light.