Appeal from exile

Here in the hinterlands, tough vines tangle on each other. How many days have I been deprived here? Since we exist, there must be a reason for our existence. Since we persist, there must be a reason for our persistence. Our betters wear furs and ride around in their carriages. They have nowhere to go; they talk only with themselves. I know, in the bigger picture, we don’t matter a whit, but those who are supposed to protect us are blind and deaf.