(no subject)

[countingblue]

my heart was a sapling
when it was shaken and bent
by hands rough with shame
I trembled then, and like a spider
spun barbed wire into an web around its trunk

the years bore its breadth
organic memory completing
rings of experience that could be read
like a sacred text growing far from the touch of the world

till ground fertile, and spring pleading
boughs opened, aching for plenty
as love folded into its core
I thrust my longing into that rusty fence

making first ecstatic contact with the world
while thorny wires licked the sap
as it surpassed their spaces
mangled amber into a kaleidoscope wonder

little tree,
my world is desperate for dimension
it sings its deepest blues for you