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.