Sacrificial Trees

Upon their bodies I ink
portentous tattoos -
doomed missives
of my despair

On their flesh I preserve
effects and posessions -
boxes set adrift
seeking far flung land
Will I even get there?
Where is my place?

A life born fragile,
symbolically futile
like origami.
It is not my choice
again torn asunder.

Till time when I
too am embraced
and one in dirt
Where am I going?
I wo/ander

 


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