We are filled
With water
And sunshine at birth
Somehow.
The layers of my mother’s dreams live in my mouth too long. My great aunt’s fears lodged in my hips.
Who am I but soil and soul trying to reconcile and remember my own thoughts?
Somehow.
I am here weeding and praying over this land, this body. Asking for help to remove that which no longer belongs so that I can nourish that which is mine.
Somehow.
the things that belong to me are full of possibilities and I am open to knowing them, as if for the first time.
Somehow.
The future is swimming in the bayou and nestled in the ditch under the pines with its mouth opening waiting for my freedom to get back in me.
It is here, too in a small suburban plots and dirt filled beds with eager hands breathing over hungry seedlings.
Somehow.