Rootball

the rootball

in my gut is

rotting away.

long dead.

i lack mycelia

so it just aches,

and rots.

hope

new growth

potential

fertility

now just

sludge.

rootshock

is a fucker, eh?

nothing like

abrupt changes

that create stress

and distrust

in the growing

environment.

yes, it's uncomfortable

but after almost

half a century

you adjust.

(i could use

mycelia...)

see, there is

a small

chance

something

might

germinate.

eventually.

perhaps.

whether it happens

from within, or from

without, i might not know.

but it will.

something always changes

something always grows

something always blooms,

i believe in those blooms,

their vibrant shades

of violet, pink, red, and white

of breezes thick with

their fragrance

of bright sun

and summer rain

comingling with

chlorophyll in

photosynthetic

bacchanalia.

i believe in them.

i have faith in

their cycle, in

their annular return.

but i never see them.

i cannot. for i am just

the soil from which

they spring, the

nutrients which

feed them,

the substrate that

holds them steady

the bees who help

germinate,

and a bed

for the precious few

seeds which remain.

they'll never see me.

they cannot. for i am

simply a single thread

in their tapestry.

they cannot

fathom

that i hold

so much love.

meggus peace wolf

07 • 15 • 2024