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A Plant Has Sprouted

By Erika Lynet Salvador

in my backyard.
By the breadth and color
of its leaves,
its stem,
by the intricacies of its roots,
I know
it’s Sorrow.
And like those before it,
I will tend it.

Its breath is weakening,
unlike that of Joy,
tightening the chest,
like that of Envy,

like that of Anger.

But I will not uproot them.
I will nurture,
tend,
water,
talk to them.
Their roots
claim the land.
For in due time,
They will become trees,
bearing
countless pages.
I will pluck them one by one,
consume them.
My heart will strengthen
and the views
will become clear.

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