Root-Bound
I’m afraid to let go of my roots; For even when they no longer serve me, for even when they begin to rot, That letting go means letting go of myself
ode To becoming
I’ve been planted here since I was but a cutting; First given much sun and then all too little; Much water, then all too little. But against all odds I grew. Even though I was left in the shade to wilt and die; Even though I was left to drought; I found the light that…
I Remember
It used to be so easy to tap my bitter sweet sap. “Hold out your hand”, you’d tell me and like a well trained dog I would. You whip my hands with a switch; You tell me it’s myrtle but it stings like Judas. When you’re done bleeding me, you coat my hands in shea…
Tori's Liberation 