By: Chase Reed

A tree on a hill
Sits tall and strong.
But the tree doesn’t feel
This is where it belongs.

One gust of wind
Bends the tree east and west.
North and south once again,
It sways more than the rest.

“My roots cannot hold,”
Said the tree in its head.
My branches are cold,
“I’d rather be dead.”

Its leaves always changing,
The tree can’t understand.
Its body rearranging
As the roots search for land.

The tree is obsessed
With one thought, then another.
“I must confess,
I’m confused by the colors”.

It didn’t like rain,
It would rather drink liquor.
“It hides all my pain.”
But the tree just got sicker.

The bark began to wrinkle.
The roots began to dry.
The leaves began to crinkle.
And the tree began to die.

“The drinks make me sick,”
Said the tree as he thought.
“I just cannot quit.”
But the tree fought and fought.

One day came a bird,
So wise and so free.
“Listen to what I’ve heard,”
Said the bird to the tree.

“The drinks will take life,
But that isn’t the issue.
Your brain causes strife,
So you drink to defend you.

In your roots go discover
Why the rain’s not enough.
Learn to be a lover
Of your bark that’s so tough.”

The bird disappeared
Into the blue sky.
The tree full of fear
Looked itself in the eyes.

At that moment it realized
Why it made these decisions.
“It’s my mind,” the tree theorized,
That causes division.

The tree then pushed its roots,
And got stronger each day.
Its brain began to reboot.
It began not to sway.

That tree is still standing,
So tall and so strong.
It serves as a landing,
Helping those who don’t belong.

The rain brings it life,
And it’s put down the bottle.
On a hill with no strife
So others can model.

If you are this tree
Who sways left and right,
Then let your eyes see,
And walk to the light.