I jump and leap over their heads.
They crane their necks to see but the sun blinds their eyes.
They complain I’m too incomprehensible,
that I should get back down there and be responsible for my life.
The fact is that they are too rooted to jump.
They are unable to lift their feet above the ground.
They are scared of height and falling down.
They want me down so they can hold on to their belief
that being rooted is a good thing
while the ground got too crowded and shaky.
As I acquaint with the sky and its risks and freedom
they struggle to protect and scrape more land for their roots.