Roots, Leaves, Flowers

Each return to health

Welcome, and a warm first hello to the newcomers!

I’m so happy you’re here.

Each of these Sunday poetry collections centers loosely around a tarot card, and this week we’re checking in with the World.

This card reminds me that change can be uncomfortable without being wrong.

ROOTS, LEAVES, FLOWERS

Sometimes, 
On bright winter afternoons,
When the sun through the buildings has that certain glint,
I pause my task
And gather the courage to ask:
What is my body doing right now, 
Exactly as this minute ticks?

Am I growing out my roots, 
Seeking the shelter of those who came before,
The creatures and plants who decomposed and became the forest floor?
Am I still enough to feel the plates of the earth shift?
Can my toes find sand, can they dig deep enough to become warm?

Am I growing out my leaves,
Taking up at least enough space to meet my needs,
Being the shade to the smaller plants that would burn in the sun,
Turning the light into something that steeps,
Unfurling fearlessly, climbing with all the strength I’ve won,
Creating oxygen for my fellow-creatures to breathe?

Am I growing out my flowers,
Creating something so gorgeous that the world cannot help but pluck it,
Bringing forth something to press between pages to mark the days,
Flinging something forward into the future that will carry my name into the land of I’m-Enough,
Crafting something worthy to place with a kiss on my father’s grave,
One that I visit in my mind
In times when I feel stuck in shit, 
When I want to throw up my hands and say fuck it?

Or am I spending time as fallow ground?
A plant that lives in rich soil and good light yields the biggest fruit. 
When was the last time I treated my body like hallowed ground?
Feed me, and I will feed you back if given the chance. 
Starve me, and I become the worst version of myself.

With proper attendance,
Soil and body,
Each return to health.