There amidst what’s gone to seed
grows a paw-paw tree
tall and straight and strong
and I breathed within the sense of it
as a force to fight my tears.
So the tree o’er laid and confined
every single tear
but heavy, oh, so heavy,
is that which can’t escape.
Beneath that pile of garbage lies
the root of all despair
and it thrives on every watery tear
in its push-up from the dirt.
Freedom, freedom, freedom for
every tear that needs to flow
because then the very root of all
stays buried as before.
And yet, and yet, the source must die
but I know, you know, we all know,
the essence of a paw-paw tree
grows what’s already there.
So I’ll try an Oak or Yellow Wood,
a Maple, Baobab,
until I know, you know, we know,
it’s only thoughts that grow!