ROOTSTOCK

The Wisdom of Women

Listen to my recitation here:

I asked a young girl, "who are you dear" and she giggled and ran away

And then I asked her mother who didn’t quite know what to say

And then I asked an older woman, who smiled and closed her eyes, 
and when they finally opened, she graced me with surprise

I am a tree grown from rootstock

My fruit, once coveted, is now sour

And while the sun still shines me green

I bear long thorns

And fewer flowers

Farmers and capitalists

Want to cut me down

To make way for something sweeter

While wise women pray

Underneath my crown

They know sour fruit makes good medicine

And tangled wood hides feathers

And those giant thorns I now possess

Make great needles to sew the world back together