Red string draped across the bare branches of an acacia tree 

Then pulled taut 

The emasculation of kitchen scissors 

She said 'sometimes it is beautiful just to survive' 

Sometimes you give up on yourself 

Just to keep up 

But what does that really mean for our soul 

Trapped in amber, staring out at the children playing in the park 

The sun basting your tender frame with hope 

A splinter in the palm of a loved one 

Burrowing blood deep while I pile rotting apples 

At the bottom of an acacia tree 

Draped with red string 

Pulled,  

Taught.