Something In Trees

by Roxie Powell

These trees that still stand
tied to the land, their roots
deep and tangled in earth,
not unlike the tangle of cells
within the brain, our earth.
These trees allow me to breathe
unfettered by my need for a
semblance of poise
adopted to guard my grief.
For I am not so fettered to
the ground as trees, nor am
I able to create a cleansing air
like trees, whose roots go deep
within and whose branches
reach high above.
Something in the trees
among whom I walk
envelopes me step by step, until
slightly fresh, I begin to breathe
like the trees, deeper and deeper,
standing more firm, now, in the
ground of myself.