Growing Pains

by Cia Queyquep (@b3lzia)

State of paralysis-

I let the leaves grow around my limbs,

Branches cracking from ages three to

eleven, or perhaps sixteen.

Aching muscles falter, insufficient

To describe the weight of every step.

Always, there will be,

More lives felt within me.

Over the years, my roots crawl as

I stretch upward; fifty-seven, eighty-

The numbers blur, though I know:

Anew, my trunk will rise.

Constant pain swells,

Alas, I scream-

Alive.

Through drought, I stretch:

Breaking stone, drinking rain.

The gossamer of time hanging on the ages

Of foliages foraging for more breath.

Seasons are irrelevant;

Growth wears scars like old bark.

In the end,

Numbers mean nothing.

Scars weave my story,

Rings chart my years.

The saw will come for me and

Each fall births another spring.

I am not eternal,

With limbs extending-

Alive!

Cia is a writer captivated by fantasy and the exploration of humanity in near-magical situations, delving into raw and vulnerable facets of the human condition. Her work often features layered characters and thought-provoking atmospheres, resonating with readers who appreciate subtle depth and imagination. When not crafting stories or dissecting literature, she enjoys spending time with her dogs and brothers.