Do I change
Like the landscape passing by this train
Or like the fields themselves?
Crop rotation of my life.
I rip out the invasive weeds
Whose roots have tangled around
My heart and into my stomach.
The removal feels violent, is painful
The fibers hold tight, protect themselves, fight to live
Fear jealousy anxiety.
I open my mouth and like the owl
Regurgitate an ugly clump
Whose stems and leaves and deceptive flowers have been suffocating my soil.
It has taken much time and convincing
To recall and recognize the old ways
Techniques of sustenance.
I push a thumb into my own earth
Forming concave craters with sufficient space between
To place a number of seeds
A variety which feed
Respect nurtures trust nurtures loves nurtures joy