Monday, September 19, 2011

unmoored

I rest unanchored to any body
The little rootlets of my heart
reach like strawberry plants, 
long vines extended,
sprouting small blind white roots
a visible faith in home.
I cannot stop them, but
hostile is the soil they reach for, so
rejected, they are left to air
an unfamiliar atmosphere,
surviving only on trace
minerals for nourishment,
Existing
but starved for home.

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