Birth

rootless trees are like empty oceans
silent speaking, still emotions
rage that breaks apart the sky
broken wings that do not fly
or rusted tongues stuck in teeth
rigid hearts without belief
sickness spreading fiery graves
thousands heading from what saves-
not grace in spades, not faces laid
upon a withered stone, replete
neither truth that wakes beneath
the laden soul, the things we know, we know
we knew all the while
carried seeds in our disgracing
what feeds our embracing- like loving
only never acted out or stretched too thin
never parceled out or kept within
not labeled or produced, not stolen, ordained,
given like wine we pour on affection
causing us to lose direction
instead a taste of open truth
the smells we gathered in our youth
intangible tangibles tasting
forgive and forgiveness wasting
our moments here on earth
we know what we know from the moment
of birth