Silk Cotton Tree

Under the silk cotton tree
Is where I find refuge
Refuge from being free.
Into the trunk,
Seven rooms are carved,
One above the other.
Inside resides the demon of death.
As if being held against my will,
I often find myself
under that silk cotton tree
sheltering from the rain.
As the rain subsides,
puddles of water collect in the forest floor.
Stagnant.
I stand still struggling
looking at my reflection in the muddy water
though still,
a distorted image reveals itself.
A constant distorted image I see
every time I shelter under the silk cotton tree.
Under the refuge of the silk cotton tree
I feel like a prisoner.
Under the silk cotton tree
Is where I find refuge
Refuge from being free.

Copyright © 2008 by Dinneka Richards