We’re Growing Crippled. Drawing.
We’re Growing Crippled. Drawing to a poem.
A drawing for a poem written in Vadim Makoyed’s “On the Outskirts of My Soul” book called, “We’re Growing Crippled.”
You make my heart cry.
The land is dry and
My tears are not enough
To wet it all.
The trees don’t like their garden.
They’d rather have their roots dug out
Somewhere where rain falls down on all in season.
Where they could grow
And jealous ones won’t choke them all for that.
You make my heart cry,
Oh, gardener, I am a tree.
Cut lose our chains
We’re growing crippled.