Maybe I would

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

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