lowlands
In these open lowlands, the ground glints
black with rock and mineral.
And the damp loam - how it orchestrates
a silent dance
between all the dead and all the living.
Part-mineral creature myself,
I have been searching for kinship
all these years. Feet bare against the dark palm
of the earth, I find something like it. Down here,
the sky is a hard, flat plank of blue, almost punishing.
The clouds are sparse, drifting westwards.
Mid-morning heat and the heart, how it longs
for impossible things. A desire to dig
in the dirt until I find the mangled roots
of my anger. To wade into the river
until I set them free.

"A desire to dig
in the dirt until I find the mangled roots
of my anger. To wade into the river
until I set them free."
Wow, these lines hit me hard. What an extraordinary, beautiful poem 💚
Loved the 'mangled roots of my anger' -- I could feel that.