Journey To Home

• Christian Martinazzo, Grade 8
• Poetry
• 2013

In the midst of the clean, crisp air we begin our dance, flying through the greenery of the forest, away from the pod. We intertwine and dance, a flurry of movement and excitement.
The northern winds are our transport, and we float on pillows of air.

A town makes its mark over the horizon, and many of our brothers and sisters let go of our hands and drift towards the town, hoping to make their mark on the landscape.
But I hold on, and continue drifting, we tumble and flip around in the sky.

A bird rushes towards the midst of us, the wind in its feathers brings us apart, and many of our brothers and sisters fall to the earth. Being forced to make their homes in the hard soil.
But not I. I find my younger sister, and we continue on in the winds.

The smell of ash slowly begins to fill the air around us, and we silently stare at the burning earth beneath us.
I feel the story of my journey coming to an end, and let go of my little sister.
She screams and begs for me to stay with her for the trip, but it is too late.

The winds and cushions of air let go, and I glide to the surface.
I am the seed, the one who promises life out of fire.
I spread my roots and communicate with my fellow trees. They tell me my brothers and sisters are safe.

As for the little one, the winds brought her back to where we left off. Back to the forest.