Maybe I would fight for more,
maybe I would.
But I’m too broken, too tired,
I’m too worn out,
and all I want to do now
is sit under this tree
until it comes back to dust
and takes me with it.
I pray for the lighting
to strike once again,
this time with fire
that burns out the bones.
I know, from the ashes
a new tree will grow,
and I’ll find my peace
as food for it’s fruit.
Alenka H., 2021