Solid

No need to witness me
I know I am here
Solid,
Standing against odds
And bad luck,
Falls, and scars, and wounds:
Certain of my imperfection.

Defiant as a means of survival
Because there wasn’t anything left
To do.
What do trees think when they fall?
What does the forest think?

My stance is speckless,
Tiny speck of a much bigger
Spectacle.
Sometimes all earth and sky,
With little between.