Healing Gardens

this sting in my eyes ran long miles

and through two winters washings.

 

dust. in my nose.myeyes.my hair.

my fingernails and the soft parts between my t o e s.

(under)

 

i can’t shake it. this desert.

 

 

 

 

 

this world however it became, it is here, under my feet, naked and alive, breathing in and out as you or i. my toes squish jovially with moist matter between them. my hands toss myriad leaves the colors of autumn. the sun sets and rises each day, with my breath but not because of it. is this world mine because i can articulate words and eat with utensils? i think not the world a trinket to be sold, won, or owned. there’s a whole life we overlook, take for granted, and forget; a living breathing planet, full of love, but not without conditions. i am but a humble spirit upon this earth. i’d like to think of myself as a leaver, but alas cannot escape my culture, for it is what makes it possible for me to be writing what i feel on this expensive computer, in my eccentric, warm, westside home.

 

i don’t know how we got here, and i feel strange projecting that someone as insignificant as myself would know suck things. sure i could make one up, but i’ve. taken too many philosophy classes to pretend i know what is real and make believe.

but what i do know is my idea of growth, and people, and trees. that is what i shared with my group. it goes something like this:

 

we the trees.

 

in the womb we start off resembling a branch, a root nestled deep within the lining of our mothers.

 

as we grow, as does the trees, our base our roots, thicken and take hold of the earth to stabilize ourselves.

 

we as humans develop ideas, ethics, and rules based solely on our surroundings and what we believe to be true, and resembling a tree, as we grow we start to question our surrounds, our parents, our teachers and thus branches thicken again and break apart, we reach in many directions following the light, the knowledge, the water, and the fire that fuels us to keep growing.

 

we may loose branches to storms, to illness,

as humans we shed old ideas for new ones,

relinquish lovers or dreams that make us sad.

 

like a tree we flower and shed our leaves for new beginnings.

we and the trees, dancing to the rhythm of mother natures sweet breath.

 

ciara d. wolfe

 

 

 

 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMDunGVx7uU