Harrow

having my eyes ripped out would be a blessing-
to never have to see what i cannot reach.
why is it so hard for me to turn my back on myself?
forever stuck under the weight of this world,
and only because of my resistance.
I have the power to find my feet,
to stop this eroding earth.

but to rise in this would be an empty action-
as a dead tree still stands unaware.
is that truly power, or my fear?