Twisted vines grow from earth

spiralling around our ankles

shows how far we’ve climbed from the dirt

when we’re still held here.


It hurts

but we’ll never see clear

no matter how much concrete we pour

to hold back the green

maybe this should have been foreseen.


But it probably was

long ago

before we fought against the natural flow

and now we are stuck

covering muck

trying to stop the grass sprouting forth beneath us.


It’s like willing the rain to wait in the sky

or telling the tide to be late to arrive

we’re not gods or kings

we have no power.


We’re just trying to argue the point

with the place that we live

all to save face

so stand still and let the vines grow

around our ankles

it’s their land

you know.


Seb Reilly is a writer, fiction author and occasional musician. He lives by the sea with his family and two cats.


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