Poetry is a clear window into the heart. I often write to express the thoughts and emotions inside me--not knowing what will appear on the page but invariably discovering more about myself and the world around me.

My Tree

Posted Thursday, March 28, 2013

It's true
There are no roots
At least visible roots

The obvious stuff
Stable career
Not present

I chose this
Cut those roots
Had them in spades
Displaced my tree
Moved it
Replanted it

In the air

New roots are growing
Less tangible
But stronger

New roots
Self adoration
Soul peace
Contentment no matter what
Love, Real love
Failing, Out loud

Working on my tree
Married to my tree
At home in my tree

By Ken Carlson

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