Different Roots
a poem that's less about mulberries and more about feeling different and seeking connection with others
Strange child grown from weeds
in a flower field. An odd pattern
on a carpet lying upon green grass floor.
A different language spoken in beautiful
sways of petals and stalks.
They differ, fundamentally elegant,
Unpluckable, in no hurry to learn
dance after dance, word after word.
Knowing only of the harmony that comes
From vast sameness, generational.
The definition of otherness is branded upon roots.
An alien stalk bound to stick out
like a bruise in nature itself,
a perversion of a landscape soft,
as pretty as the desirable normal life.
Tears trickle rain at every wrong move,
the child of weeds surprisingly susceptible
to nature's seasons and whims.
Yet from rain grow mulberries, vibrant purple and yellow things,
and the children playing undertree can bond
over climbing and grabbing their feast; same or different.
Thank you for reading. Consider supporting Ink Marks & Paper Clumps by liking, subscribing or leaving a comment if you have found the poem resonated. You can find more nature poetry here. Other pieces to read if you enjoyed this one: A Bud of Innocence and Flashes of Scars.
Great ending.