The Phoenix

 

One ought to have transportable roots so that when the calamity strikes necessitating an exile, you can uproot yourself and move with your injured self to a new place. It’s better than suffering and meeting a slow, painful death at the old place that has no option for you to lead even the most basic of a life.

Of course, you can’t carry the earth around your roots with you. But its scent and feel in your heart and soul will be still enough to help you as you dig fresh earth at a strange place to fix your broken roots.

You can graft yourself and try to adjust to the new soil, new sun, new rain, new animals, new insects, new plants and grass, new people. It’s always good to give it a try; as long as there is some option—even if it’s as little as carrying a part of your broken self and broken roots.

If you succeed in this self-grafting, this new you, built on the ruins of the old you, will save you from many a guilt of life. A self-reward it will be; bestowed in honor of having keep going—just for having crossed the desert to reach home; a far away oasis, strange and almost alien but still livable, where you can spread your roots to a decent degree.