gnarl (9/6/24)

ancient gnarly holly
you’ve never really took
to where you stand
to where you’ve rooted
long ago
growing old
immobile and
immovable
looking somewhat stricken
as though you’ve been driven
to distraction
in your years,
branches branching
like you have an ague
all your leafless
barren sticks
open-armed
barely one remaining
still clinging to its leaves,
posed as though
you’re pleading
bleeding out the past,
clothed now in ivy
spiralling  and coating
every inch of you
becoming something
other than
the holly that you are,
a second life
another chance
a history of circumstance
you’re here because
a seed from a berry
was deposited
all that time ago
and thus began you journey
up into the sky
even though you’d always
known you’d never fly.

© 2024 robert greig