When We Fall
Joy Song It’s funny how during a storm the trees allow the wind and rain to push them around. The roots are anchored, the trunks are tilted, the branches are thrashing. The strong ones know with confidence that they are needed and cared for. But the weak ones, who eat last, who talk the least, and are stepped on the most, end up falling. They fall from fifty feet high, destroying the fence you use to guard your garden, the car you drive to flaunt your fortune. They are too weak to stand back up, to cry for help, to live another day-- and yet they still are blamed. I fell. Years ago. What I wore on the day I fell: probably sweatpants, worn-out sneakers, a sweater two sizes too big. But none of that matters. I didn’t have the roots anchored in love, a person to cling onto, or the strength to stand back up. And I was blamed—sorry. |