Acacia Tree

Acacia Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

Look closely at me,
I am the Acacia tree.
Alone I do stand.
Any wasteland is my home.
Planted my roots. Do not roam.
Moving, I’ll resist
Those who viciously insist.
My roots stretching deep
Helping me to stay alive
While the others can’t survive.
At my wrinkled face
They throw fits to make their case
While I stand my ground.
Their buffeting I ignore
Even if they call for war.
Let me live in peace.
I know their hate will not cease.
Anger will go on,
Crying in sickening grief.
From me there’ll be no relief.
‘Cause I am different
There should not be a judgement
That I make a change.
For them I will not suborn.
From my roots will not be torn.

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