Darkness billows round me
the turbulent sky rattles the air
But the old rites has bound me
And so, my feet, entrenched, will not go

The tall, bent trees bear down,
their leaves threaten to break canopy
The heavens rumble their agreement
And so, I cannot will to go

I cry my cries and watch
their gnarled contours curl
their tongues slaked on tears shed,
their benevolent boughs sharp
And I, uproot the feet that cannot, will not go

Writer’s note:
This is an inspired parallel piece from-
The night is darkening round me by EMILY BRONTË