In Which I Can’t Decide Which Metaphor To Use, So I Use Both And Find That Neither Satisfies

I.
Been face to face
with this brick wall for
daysmonthsyears, growing
weary, dizzy staring at the pattern
of defeat, dead ends.

But now the wall is tumbling,
each brick falling, forming paths
away from this place.

Endless options, but
now I’m not sure I want to leave.

II.
Immobilized by mobilization,
I find that more of my roots have taken hold
than I could have ever imagined.

Yet still I rise, despite the tearing
tendrils, despite the protest
of bark twisting, cracking, snapping –
shrapnel, or souvenirs
for those who are to follow.

I pull and the earth pulls back.