Hands

This is where they built the trees
inside
and growing roots through your feet
You told me they don't need watering
and my hands shook them dry
dusty
cracked
hard

My hands can't shake out
all your roots
in their need
to be planted
in the firmest soil
to turn you in
and still make you beautiful

My hands covered
in dirt
can't dig this hole
so deep to keep you stable
from blowing in the storm
but they bleed to try

Your roots have been exposed
to the air
without water
or soil
for so long
spilling from your body
and now these hands were forced
to build
a city
around you
with tall walls
and skyscrapers
A place for you to live
but never leave

or at least not without
the destruction of what
my hands have built
an awful city
to hide the truth
just because we know
you'd prefer it
to stay hidden
and rotting
refusing
the help of my hands
to plant you again
and let you grow

My hands have built what grows from your feet
to your mouth
and now they bleed again
in anticipation
to plant you deep
in a far corner of the woods
away from your polluted city
where we'll pray to hear you whisper again
in hope
and happiness
and love
and nothing else.