Grafted into a Grove

I was grafted into a grove of

oak trees that had a common​​ 

root system; a lineage to

hold on to and to take

their nourishment from.

I was the intruder, the foreign

one who was inserted

to take advantage of the

trunks for my own stability

​​ but never quite taking fully

to the roots.

I was the graft that might have

brought new fruit or new

flowers; been able to take​​ 

the genus to something new

greater than it had been before.

I was inserted into the cut

that bled; I was inserted

into the slice and bound​​ in order

to remain; hoping to grow.

I did not know who I was

whether oak or aspen or locust.