Crushed Tears by Maira Zaidi

An oak. The young gather and wrap lanky arms around his firm torso,

taking in musk and sweetness. He carelessly winds through the air,

demanding the bowing of the human head. Paralyzed in the center,

calluses on his skin from curiosity. Afraid of toppling over, sinking

deep, too deep. He is praised: the epitome of stability, yet prays for

a hurricane so strong to crush him painlessly. Autumn, the season of

embarrassment; blood rushes up in him. Bright crimson. Paparazzi

swarm him–the jewel of the woods–stepping all over

his pleas. Acorns crushed under the softest

tread; too delicate to be produced

by such a pillar. Hidden

away. The wind

sweeps his

tears.