At Root

Because bulldozers do that –
They slice off the tap root
At ground level
As they smash aside
The trunk and branches.
But sometimes the root
Continues on,
Struggles to push deeper
Into dirt, water, darkness.
In confusion it tries
Passing its gifts upward
To phantom limbs.

No matter that something new
And maybe beautiful
Will arise in place. That
Even deeper roots
May eventually delve
And sustain.

What grew for years
Knows only its loss —
There is nothing left
To feed with dreams.

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