By Miracle, She Lived

The roots of a tree’s shadows are hard to see because they are dark and hidden and run beneath the leaves. But they are few compared to upon whom they have fallen.

It was the most uncanny of seeds, the one a child found,
the one she planted, raindrops falling upon her ground,
and of course not upon a happy day was this fateful act,
but in pain of heart, was where she sealed this contract,

as the years passed by she could feel it growing inside
one root becoming many running hidden in the twilight
for shadows spindly spiders glisten by winks of the moon
and she’d see them spirited to corners of her every room

great fear of these things she learned to pretend none,
ever excited for sunshine when they’d leave her alone,
day and night, fear and joy formed the cycle of her life,
everywhere she’d look were circles spinning in her sight

for the pain of heart seemed lost to days gone by
and she never considered that this healing was a lie,
and so she gave all her time to tending to what she signed,
forgetting herself, the child, a poem in a lighter rhyme.

instead, spheres of webs twisting from feet to crown,
no cell untouched, no strand ever dared to be unwound,
spider shadows coming and going as she’d always expect,
she called her knowledge wisdom; but the rest was ever suspect

for everywhere she’d go, she’d bring that tiny binding seed,
to give it all water, all food, every sip of air she breathed;
giving so much to it, that you’d wonder how she lived,
a miracle indeed that by the light of God she did.

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