a clean break

Have you ever ripped a tiny plant from the soil?
Felt it’s futile tug and the inevitable snap
Of it’s delicate, stringed roots?
There’s a sadness to this miniscule death.
You attach it to other meanings, other symbols, other beings.
You realize life is almost an act of defiance
In the palm of a greater hand
That looms over our heads
In the starry firmament of circumstance…

Simply put,
Your name sprouted roots on the blind side of my soul.
And one day, there were suddenly roses blooming in my mouth,
Ivy and moss chocking my heart;
A botanical garden
Full of birds
Fluttering inside my ribbed cage.
Todo a raíz de tu nombre, mi cielo.
I hear your voice; there are sun showers,
And this menagerie just grows...

Some mass-deforestation please?