Grow In The Way Of Trees Poem by Micronjan (Micron)

Our lives are like trees that learn to grow,
Not straight or clean, but bending slow,
We lean where changing seasons blow,
We reach for light we barely know,
Each turn reflects what winds bestow,
No perfect path is how we grow.

We start as roots in hidden ground,
Where family, memory, pain are bound,
In dark, our truest shapes are found,
In holding tight, in wrapping round,
All that we love, all that we've known,
Is braided deep in flesh and stone.

We rise in branches split and wide,
Some reaching far, some turned aside,
Some broken off, some healed with time,
Some growing where the light won't shine,
Each choice a bend we cannot hide,
Each scar a place where we survived.

The wind will test what we become,
Through heavy rain and burning sun,
Through seasons lost and seasons won,
Through falling leaves when growth feels done,
Still sap will rise, still work is spun,
Still life insists—again, again.

And when we stand in quiet air,
Stripped bare by time, by loss, by care,
The roots remember how to bear,
They keep us held, they keep us there,
For like the trees, we learn this truth:
To stay alive is not to stay smooth.