little roots

because things get taken away
and impermanence
marks the land of the living,

her tiny tree has been destroyed.

(there is no reason to make this a fancy poem)

someone planted a tree in her memory
and then the tree was cleared away.

i doubt the driver knew
whose little roots were being ripped out of the ground
when he mowed her down–
there was not a plaque or warning
and that i suppose is my fault.

i should have done more to protect it
(i should have done more to protect her).

and i am devastated and indignant and mad at the earth
even though it is not the earth’s job to love her

it is just so tough sometimes to live in a temporal place
when she already resides in eternity

and the space between cannot yet be crossed.

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