While We're Alive

Texture

I stand trying to draw a tree
Trying to give life
To a blank piece of paper.

Like how prophets use power from God
To do miracles
I try to let you know what I was feeling when I was drawing.

Texture, my teacher calls it.
Attempting to give a fake sense of touch to a simple flat surface.
You can still see where branches once existed.

Bumps and stretch marks
Like scars of where beautiful pieces of life once stood.

Its filled with uneven branches and broken twigs. Leaves where no size truly matches the other.
Spots and colors at random on the bark,
And patches of moss.

Yet with all the marks on this wood we never stop seeing trees as anything but beautiful.

Trees that don't grow straight upwards are marvels of beauty and strength.

When a tree can't reach the sun's light to live,
It twists and turns however it needs in order to survive.

It grows unapolagetically with no signs of shame.

It will bend itself into unorthodox forms as long as it can reach the light of the sun.

Death and surrender are never the first options.

And while there is comfort in structure and plan,
There is beauty in divergency.