If I can’t fly then I want to be a tree, strong and resilient, whose roots form webs and networks with it’s tribe, always an exhale, always a balance a compliment.
Always alive even when life steps in with heavy rains and wind, when my branches break or worms make bags and pockets and eat my leaves. Even when squirrels make nests, ugh those squirrels. Even when the woodpeckers dig and dig and find those bugs.
I still exhale. Even when a person comes and takes my bark, my skin. Even when I’m broken or cut down.
Still then I have my tribe, my network, my web. And I exhale.
If I can’t fly I want to be a tree.