【I】
I stand thin, leaning
on a tree that trembles.
Lift me in your arms—
my spine straightens,
my shadow straightens.
If my father lends his strength
to this trembling tree,
the tree will rise.
I called. He came down
and guided the trunk I leaned on
through bramble and scree,
to the banyan\'s root, to take hold.
【II】
I wrapped the trunk in cloth,
bark grit beneath my nails.
I tested the knot; the wood
yielded under my palm.
My father spoke: Foolish child—
why bind a tree with cloth?
Father, against the thorns, the stones—
My father wiped his blade.
He knew what I had bound against:
not the thorns, not the stones—
the trembling.
He cut the cloth away.
It fell towards the banyan\'s root.
The thorns exposed.
The bandage off.
The trembling tree—
still trembling,
still standing.