She is soft, not weak.
She is moist, not dirty.
She is slow, not dead.
She is deliberate, not random.
Don’t mistake her tears, for your victory
She uses them to water the deeper
underground rivers.
Don’t mistake her going in, as withdrawal
She uses that time in isolation to sense
Where the world hurts
And where kindness is necessary.
She is soft and hard
She is the seed and the soil that nourishes it
She knows where she comes from, and where she will go
Do not try to soil her
You forget, She lives there.
Do not try to push her down,
You forget , she is a seed.
She will go in, and dig deeper into mother earth
And grow her roots wide and deep,
till they intertwine with all others roots.
She knows, she is held, by this collective network of roots
Dark..ancient… holding steadfast.
Do not underestimate her strength
If she can move the earth in a flowerpot
She can move Mountains.
All the while, being at home.
She knows how to grieve and compost that grief.
And learn to grow the great forests from that soil.
She will remember, at times like this
She is Nature.
And when all these wars are over, like they have in the past
When people have come and gone
When seasons have come and gone
She, will be there,
Still.
Sharing these stories she has woven, into the soft folds of her skin…
With people who are ok to let the soil touch
their soft and hard parts
One day.
Until then..
{P.S.: This one had come home in December..and then she just went inside and disappeared. I though she died. So I kept her shell in my flowerpot. It lay there for almost 3 month now, without any sign..and today as I went to water..I saw her come out and move….. }
1 Comment