Polluted Words

I have grown old
and to look upon my feet
is like looking
upon the roots
of a willow.

Knotted, you tried
cutting, severing
with your saws
which you saw
effective,
yet those old roots
bite and whip round
endlessly around
the world.

Now stepping light,
I feel detached
from the soil,
that has been poisoned
with the smoked rain.

Those polluted words
sown swell like
the once fresh wells
which are not
well anymore.