Palm Tree / 2:35 am & Other stories-

A poem/ December 10, 2014

PALM TREE

By Crystal Granderson-Reid

Salty waters ware on me.

And soon, the mighty sea will reign victorious.

She always does.

But for now, I bend into the pain.

My roots exposed, decaying at the hand of nature's bitter exfoliant,

The salt has its way with me.

And yet, I sway amid the wind's prolific breath.

My trunk, a beautiful sun-washed gray,

protects an inner beauty that unprompted,
sprouts silky, yellow strips.

My blackened tips kiss an intense Caribbean sun.

Demise is imminent,
But I stand tall.

Slender and radiant as the sun,
My feet tattered beyond repair,

Ripped apart by that which grounds me.

Though I know, horror is but a pale whisper compared to hope.

For in this moment,

I'm alive.

Brooklyn Chateau