Thasia Frazzini writes

BROKEN BRANCHES      

PART I

Flaking bark breaks loose,

punky, smelling,

pokey wood, 

damp broken L

L for Lunger, linger over that 

think about the growth

and breakdowns it took 

to take a breath,

after the death of the past 

fears that perfection

wouldn’t last, 

but it did, it does

branched out, family tree 

for many beings, needing

branches and chances at 

normality, serenity

or the safety of 

family tree trunks,

on which occasionally a chunk breaks off.

PART II

My mother once the tree 
strong and invincible has
become the flexible willow 
wind forced her to accept all atrocities: 
     Her polio 
     My father 
     Her husband 
     My abuser
Fled, vanished, possibly vanquished,
suddenly needing to provide for two baby
birds
just as storms stripped her bare 
she was not spared
humiliation, degradation, separation, 
needing rehabilitation;
while being sole custodial parent 
of two elementary aged, flightless beings
a choice to send us away
for the summer 
while she attempted to regain,
reframe, and find her way 
she shed old bark;
started life anew, 
and delighted with reunited family

     Minus the mister 

     Minus the monster
Eventually bark regrew, regain, regrew
and restructured    

PART III

The tiny half grown birdling flew away in
the wind 
she crashed in and out of nests strewn
with litter
and then onto the next nest 
trying to become at least
half of what mother bird had made herself to be 
finally flat on the ground bound by
bruises
tied up in hand-made nooses 
tiny, sought strong straight trees for
answers
Trees with stepping stone bark 
Trees with branches that bent willowy to
reach her
Trees which beseeched her to stop trying
to heal all of the other broken winged
birds 

to heal herself;

to deal with all the self-inflicted wounds;

to become in tune with what she wanted,

needed, or was fleeing from;
tiny, rested, nested, and became aware of

the view

 

Broken Branches -- David Castleberry