I don’t want to be a land
I want to be a tree
No matter how deeply rooted
I will stand firm
With branch-like hands
Waving my leaf- like fingers
None will step on me into mud
None will dig into me
None will wash away my skin
None can blast my stone like bones
Hoping to make a house
Whose legs will be cemented into me

As a tree
I will stand
Pulling my waters from the static land
Traveling through its defences
While dancing to the winds
I will hang my fruits up
No matter how hard they fall
I can take the burning
I can take the cutting
I can take it all
Because they sure will have tasted the heavens
By the time rots lay their icy fingers
On their loved selves
In bellies of predators
Or the hated land
Who will still sprout their seeds
To grow like me
And when I finally break
Or get uprooted in rejection
I will fall into the ever caring land

I need to be a tree
A very huge tree
Instead of this little land
Housing many weeds
A broken tree
And few crops
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2016


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