Static Stagnation

My leaves wither and crumble as the icy grip of winter arrives, its long and slender fingers slowly wrapping around my branches. It sends shivers down my trunk momentarily but I quickly adjust, I have gotten used to this feeling through years of adaptation. I am much chunkier so I no longer sway when the cold breeze attempts to engulf me, my roots, bedded deep into my lover the soil, hold me firm. As time has gone on our relationship has only grown stronger, the deeper my roots the richer she gets. We are in a polygamous relationship with her as the breadwinner, she provides and we grow. Sometimes she grows weary of our dependency and decides to reduce our numbers, refusing to give her nutrients and coldly watching her undesired partners rot away. I live in constant fear that I may be the next to be discarded but for now, our love remains strong.

As I have matured slight changes have occurred in the seasons, the mundane cycle tweaked and irregularities appearing. A week of sunny days capped off with the descent of snowflakes; freezing temperatures juxtaposed by brief moments of extreme warmth, the sun rays gently hugging my branches not in greeting but in condolence for the deceased leaves. I find this unnecessary, by this point, I have become accustomed to loss, the leaves leave in their droves but they will be replaced. If I cannot come to terms with the past I will never develop and with the static nature of my existence that is something I cannot tolerate.

I envy those that visit me, they have the ability to come and go as they please. They climb my branches, lean against my trunk and some even shower me with affectionate hugs. After all these actions they have the ability to leave, however, unlike the leaves, they remain alive and well. As I see them trample over the lowly grass I yearn to be able to follow them, to learn of life away from this patch of land, to escape this relationship of fear and uncertainty and experience the freedom and confusion that choice provides. I cannot express these sentiments as I know the result of a confrontation. A divorce in which I, the dependent plaintiff must give all that I have as alimony, in an unjust court where the soil is both judge and defendant. Many of the discarded have fallen victim to this corrupt judicial system, sapped of their will to live as their cases dragged on.

The freedom that I desire can only be achieved through my passing, the saw wielding mercenaries slicing and dicing my limbs. With each pull their sharp, rough blades chip away at my skin and my consciousness fades as the pain overwhelms me. To onlookers, this may seem like a homicide but I view this as euthanasia, an act of mercy that would leave me brimming with joy, as I know that in death my dream of emancipation takes its first steps to fruition. My body spread across the world as outdoor restaurant tables; bannisters and railings for homes; and sheafs of papers in classrooms. Overcoming my static state would give my existence meaning as in a world teeming with movement, stagnation equates to never having lived at all.

AAOOA