What an ugly bark, I thought when I first caught sight of it as I walk along the seashore of Victoria. What a pitiable sight? It’s dry, twisted, and worn out. I gave the bark a light kick to get it off the sand. I barely moved it. I realized it was a root of some tree (a mangrove, I think) which managed to grow a root that big and buried itself deep into the sand despite the constant beating of the waves and the dry heat of the punishing sun at this side of the earth. I tried to use my hands to uproot it. I couldn’t, even with both hands. Sensing the stubbornness of the root (or was it mine?), I started to twist and turn it but it won’t yield to the pressure. Was the root holding ground? Or was it the sand not letting go? Sometimes I am this root, stuck in melancholy and so wrapped up in my misery that I don’t see I am only buried in sand and not in rocks.


4 thoughts on “Stuck

  1. this is a beautiful reflection, miss lines, and you know, one of the things i have learned in life: we cannot control anybody (or anything at that), we either hurt ourself or the one we are controlling. 🙂

  2. I like the picture. I am just curious if you happen to take another picture sometime later, how did it look? Were there leaves? if there were, then it speaks of something that speaks to me very intimately? thanks for the picture.

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