Vines of the Hill
Everywhere we go,
Vines of the hills trap us
And hold us down
And pull us under,
Towards the ground’s surface
The ground’s surface
Is what we fall on
Having fallen
From a place
That is very, very high up
Too high up to see
Too high up to feel
Too high up to gain
Any hope
That we MIGHT
Be able to reach this place
So, we simply stay on the ground
We are entangled in the vines
That reach out and grab us
That reach out
And hold us down
As the vines’ thorns
Pierce us,
In the flesh,
That hangs in layers,
Over what is our own flesh
We kneel before
The violent thorns
That intensely demolish
Our fleshy shields
Until only our true selves remain
And we kneel
Before the thorn and vine gods
Who STAND before us