Week 62

Sometimes I feel
Like I'm a vessel
Who is to be emptied
For the rest of her life.

So much energy
Leaves my body
That my muscles dry up
And every other night
Is characterized by
Migraines
Headaches
Abdominal pains.

Where am I rooted,
I wonder.
What water and soil
Cover my ankles
And nourish my soul.

I think the answer is
That somehow I'm a sapling
That made it despite
The odds.
It's probably why I ended up so
Brittle
And innocent.

I cling to the side of this mountain.
And as I look down,
the cold wind blows my hair around,
Drying me up further.
I look around for help.
"Have faith,"
They say
As they retreat home.
I'm left here
Staring at the stars
On my own.