A storm, let’s call her, Seditio, once took me by the hand 

She carried me across landscapes I had never known

Planted me in a foreign soil,

and told me never to return

All by myself, as a mysterious seed, I began to grow

One day, a farmer was struck by my daring root,

which ventured to see the world

The farmer, who did not know of me and my outlandish nature,

kicked me and cursed,

as though I were just any root

Time passed and both I and the farmer forgot about our encounter

My roots became a trunk,

and my trunk became branches

During the spring, I would shine with a thousand wild roses

“Oh look, what a marvellous tree - it must not be from here”, people would remark

As summer approached, the farmer looked to his field,

and the fields lay barren

Fuelled with anger, the farmer looked to me

“You stupid foreign tree! You drained my fields to grow those silly branches!”

The farmer’s rage took away my beauty

My branches, once decorated with a thousand wild roses,

were turned to flames and smoke

And part of me returned to the sky,

where Seditio once carried me as a delicate seed

A year passed, and the farmer’s yield was no better

Once again, the farmer’s fury cried across his fields

“You stupid foreign tree! You block the sun with your useless trunk!”

The sting of the farmer’s saw felt all too familiar,

as my core was cut in half

I was ashamed of the remains of myself

My trunk was still throwing shade over parts of the farmer’s field

“Why would I do such a terrible thing? The farmer had done no evil to me, why would I ruin his crop?”

I asked myself

Ashamed and abolished I tried to hide

What was once a sight of majesty,

became a symbol of travesty

I hid my wild roses,

to look like the others

I grew hollow with silence

I was taught to believe that was my place in the world

Year after year, I kept my wild roses to myself,

and denied my growth to protect the farmer’s field

Until a sunny afternoon, a child passed by

She looked to me in surprise

Her innocent eyes wide with curiosity,

as she leaned her small body against my trunk

She found peace in my shade,

and dreamed of the wonders of the world

The next day she returned,

with a pile of homework and a pen

She wrote of a tree so strange,

and of the place it must originate

Day after day she returned

In the spring, I daringly showed her a branch with ten wild roses

She smiled her glimmering teeth,

at the wonder of the sun-scorched tree

When summer came around,

my bravery had grown to a thousand wild roses

All it took was one child,

gazing at my inadvertent difference, 

with fascination and admiration 

Never again will I hide

For it is the children,

with unspoiled curiosity,

who will one day set us free.

by Kia Vakili Khatibi