A broken branch on this plant
top-heavy with thick leaves
bled a congealing milk
& it refused to die

Stuck in an old wine bottle
filled with water
it began pushing out
pale white roots

We have no means to understand
a plant’s will to live
but that at some level
it shares the ground with us

This plant growing down
& out in all directions
a strange reversal

We pass from crown to root
or from root to crown
making reflections of ourselves

The hidden & the revealed

Which aspect begins it?
Which one chooses?

Wherever we are broken
there survives a possibility
of replacement & growth

Leaves bending to air & light
roots twisting toward dark sustenance
& always the passage between the two

Though we are split off
given up for death
we may yet create a lost part
& save ourselves

© Bob Rixon

Stuttering 9-1-1