poems and artwork by e.p.rose

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what are you doing? I asked
I am digging for my roots she answered
puzzled will you find them buried? I persisted
of course she nodded they’re holding up this tree
and pointed where the Beech tree’s silver trunk
exploded green into blue

that’s my home
that’s me
I am the tree

she put down her spade
sat beside me
pressed my hand against the bark
feel she insisted I am alive

and handed me her spade
now you dig she encouraged
turning I found myself alone