When I was in middle school

Sitting in the back of the math class

On account of alphabetical order

(by last name)

I never knew that everyone else 

could see the equations

In dark green dry erase marker

at the front of the room clearly

 

Coming home from the optometrist

I stared out through the back seat window

Of the family car

in wonder

Now able to see 

the little leaves

On the tall trees

through glasses

For the first time

 

That little version of me

Was quietly beginning to understand

That I was different

And my nuances were obscured 

beneath the broad strokes

My errant rivulets diverted 

Back into the mainstream

 

Do not draw me

In your image 

Do not make me

with a child’s unsteady hand

In an attempt to make 

A green triangle into a tree

always missing the details

 

See my deep roots

the wild, thorny vines

Acknowledge the whorls and spots

I have lost limbs

Severed by rough, uncaring hands

I have withstood forest fire

And days of cooling rain

I will continue throwing off my leaves 

when it is time for me to transform again

And, Yet, here I stand

Swaying gently in the breeze

And beneath me, 

you sit

taking full advantage

of my shade