Life-advocating soil and its daydreamer; 

April 2025 (♉︎)

frolicking around the front yard— shoeless

because we take our shoes off when we're in the house

i am little and shy towards the now,  vulnerable to life's directness.    

nevertheless, having so much fun and constantly demonstrating how grass becomes a mattress for me,

i can play by myself out here: as the sun keeps watch — until the streetlights take its place.

once i am done running around and investigating my daydream universes, i lean into my sensitivities;

in the present day sensory-wise, i like to think of myself as invincible

my shell hardened with time but remained flexible like cartilage.

but back then, i was very aware of the soil underneath my toenails,

observational, skin sensitive to wind patterns

eyes fixed on the green stains between my nail beds and how they got there,

ripped blades of grass stuck between my toes like stitches 

or maybe they were always there.

surrendering to gravity, after spinning so fast in place

i lay out on the ground, quiet to its embrace

suddenly i’m embedded here. 

it's uncomfortable, the twigs and rocks that pry from below — but i notice a motif,

my independence and time alone allow both a growing & a grounding

i remain and become rooted in the most authentic version of the “selves”— the “selves” i find in my daydream universes ;

building blocks of me.

i talk to myself in 1st person and 2nd and 3rd and a secret fourth one

i share ideas of myself with the ants, the trees, and the wind which cools me off from my ranting,

it's okay if they’re not even listening because i have a hard time hearing them too.

i lay on my back, surrendering to the motions of life and continue a staring contest with the sky & the clouds

i didn't know it then but every moment i played by myself, i was recharging a future of possibilities

and every moment i look back and decipher my past, i see that i was always searching for a life advocating calm outside of me,

and i often found it in the soil that held me up, and the gravity that dared me to be clumsy and acknowledge bodily autonomy [ a seeking of balance].

this childhood i always reminisce tends to cloak me

i pull protection from memory like it's a rigged game of tug-of-war

being by myself was preservation; being in nature was recharge

my future self is always keeping watch like the sun & remembering like the dirt—

how i jumped for the sky and my bones soon dug into the ground for respite 

recline on the regenerative, forgiving, life-advocating soil is a practice that bridges ritual and a return to my ~just girly things~