Rainforest

Wicked trees blow, abruptly shaking the tranquility of the forest.
Predators prey, in hopes that their prayer come true, dominance.
Birds soar, and rest at the top, peaking down on the trouble on the forest floor.
Anxiety, stealthy like a tiger, creeps up on the child, bombarding her with dreams of nightmares, a daily story of terrorism.
The past pushes forward like monkeys in a tree swinging above trying to beat the child to the finish line. Constant reminders of her mistake, pain.
Pain dangles from the tops, ever so slightly hitting the top of her head, like the heavy dew in the morning.
Pressure pushes like gravity, constantly reminding that the higher she ascends the greater her fall – and the more damage it can do.
A rainforest of love, not enough to stop the mockery of pain, discernment, the lack thereof.
As I am the child, Father, be my father, guide me, give me a new- world.