O gnarled trunk of bony protuberances
twisted like an aging tree.
Crushing, squashing, squeezing the breath out of life-giving nerves,
damming the blood-flow.

Detested, hardened, calcified,
my bane, my foe, my abhorrent spine.
Gripping now with a strangle-hold
Shutting off the life-force like a wrench.

I visualize thee tall and straight and strong.
I will thee supple soft.
I coax thee to unfold, then bending, yielding,
open up the flood-gates.

The willow tree is proud, enduring,
vigorous, with spirit flowing.
I shall be the dancing willow -
You shall not vex me, ever more.

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