a tree of my own

When I was 8 years old, I tried to climb a tree.
I hoisted my gangly legged, scabby kneed, bright eyed self up that first branch,
Following the trail of laughter left behind by my brothers,
Already at the top
They smiled down at me, adventure radiating from their every pore-
And then I fell.

"Leave the tree climbing to the boys," my neighbor said,
"Girls don't have to bothered with that type of thing."
What she saw as foolish, I saw as unfair,
And that day,
That very moment
 I burned the kingdom in my mind to the ground,
Only ashes and cinders and smoldering ruins remained
And I planted a seed inside of my head,
Childish tears acting as the water,
So that I could grow a tree of my very own.

As the tree grew, I slowly climbed
Branch after branch,
And watched as other girls struggled to find a place of their own to grasp.
When we were twelve our church leader told us,
"In order to be happy,
You must find a companion."
So what does that make me?
Pathetic.
Broken, jagged, incomplete.
The last place runner in the race society threw me into the moment I was born.
Because queens must have kings in order to rule.
And they can't climb trees.

But little boys don't go to bed dreaming of being someone's prince charming,
So why have I been taught to aspire above all else,
To be your princess?
I am not yours.
I am not anyone's.
I belong to me.
So I will keep climbing the tree growing in my mind.

Perched on my branch, I see those who have been pushed to the ground,
by promises of happiness brought about by two week relationships.
Knees bleeding, spirits broken,
a string of faceless companions by their side,
because without them they feel alone.
Without them, they are nothing,
because this is what they have been told.

But they are not alone.
I have seen the universe in their eyes and the seeds they hold in their hands,
ready to be planted,
without help from anyone else.
You are stronger than all of the armies on this earth.

We do not need someone to carry our loads as we scale mountains,
as we traverse rivers,
as we take on the world.
All I want is to walk in that grassy meadow by the lake with my favorite person in the world by my side,
next to me on my branch,
not because he completes me,
but because I love him,
and shouldn't that be enough?

On a camping trip I recall being told that if you ever find yourself lost in the woods,
climb the nearest tree and search for help.
But the purpose of my climb up this tree I have grown is not to search for anything,
or for anyone.
In fact,


I think I'll just enjoy the view.