Icekler

Green ripe by E. Alemán Life is flowing through me like a falling... Branches of the tree, how I hang waiting in the (thee) shadows of my old roots. I dream of the fall, I want to stand up All tall and so short, but free to grow on my own roots, finally. The material umbilical cord that holds me and nurtures me, They're paternal ropes and chains that makes a prison so comfortable. Flying from the nest, not an option for some, but having the choice makes it all complicated. A falling fruit from the tree of familial roots, if only to seek freedom, cutting the branch hurts the tree as well. Life is flowing through me like a falling...