Growing Pains

The long push begins 

invisible in the velvet of earth--

time unreckoned,

strain unaccounted,

and inaudible groan yet unmade.

A wrinkle of green,

serpentine, splits

the sameness 

with the altogether new.

Old spaces cannot hold 

and old known has been un-known.

This is the rift 

that teaches of vines and branches, 

of how the lifeblood in You

is somehow mine, too.