Little Death

For the first time in a while I felt like I belonged.

At home in this place with no roof and no walls.

For the first time in a while I found what I’d been missing.

I found my footing.

In the echoes of ancient truths whispered through the soles of my feet.

I found simplicity.

In life unfolding through curling leaves, and leaning trees, and dragonfly wings.

I found harmony.

In generations of stories intertwined and simultaneously speaking without a sound.

In rich purple blooms, and green spires reaching towards misty ripples of clouds.

For the first time in a while I was lost.

Lost in her mysteries.

Lost in her beautiful dangers.

In reflective pools of standing water, dark emerald groves, and restless rustles coming from deep in the trees.

Lost were the stories. Lost were the maps and the rules and the game.

In deepest thanks I knelt, among the ferns and roots and the prickly palmetto leaves.

And for the first time in a while, I sank.

I sank into the earth, into the darkness. Into my mothers arms.

I sank deeper and deeper, until I broke through the surface again, as bright green tendrils with tears on my cheeks.

Then, for the first time in a while, I rose.

I rose, until my outstretched branches drank the sky.

I rose until I became her.

Her rivers and mountains. The calm of her shores and the cool of her caves.

I rose as the birds riding the skies, as the river stones worn smooth by time, and the tall grasses glimmering in the light.

For the first time in a while, I died.

And that’s how I finally came back to life.

©️2024 Cristen Writes