the soil

no one knows me
like the soil
the careful caress of 
blades of grass,
their arms outstretched
to wrap around my
bare feet
skin searching for solace
roots grasping for 
solid ground,
stability and warmth

until the membrane of my being
bores into the ground below
and i turn my gaze towards the sky,
allowing the sun’s warm embrace
to submerge into every molecule and cell
in my fragile bones
until all of me becomes bark,
textured and strong, aware of who i am again

reminding myself that
being grounded does not mean 
never growing,
when rooted, we always grow towards the sun
our strong foundations
remind us that who we are is always there
but we can keep building upon that
until all of our leaves are wilted

because at the end of our days,
we are all just trees
we carve our initials into one another-
leaving marks that we may never revisit,
but at always there-
we are scarred and thirsty,
yet we persist anyways.

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