Poem | Germination
I was laid down onto the ground and I stared at the blue for so long, it blurred; just a grey expanse of lost signal. The wind faded to only a dropped eyelash on a cheek, and had it even rained, I wouldn’t have known. My limbs were the roots of a tree I couldn’t see, but felt pushing me down, down though they said I kept walking. I sank where they put me, and I forgot what it meant to be real, to be spirited. I affirmed it: I will be still till spring. I will be still till spring. And I allowed myself the wait.
