This piece began in New Mexico this summer and changed shape as I thought about boldly stepping into a new place with Girls Write Now.
this earth I know—
roots of oak trees
reach through mycelia, offering
sustenance to weakened neighbors,
air bends heavy with cedar,
pine, humid summertime.
The desert changed
all that. Cracked
soul hardened by lack of
rain, pear-leaf cacti
sagging in the sun.
How can I pray to mountains holy in their forms alone?
Gold at the back of
dark blue shadows
heralds the dawn;
these landforms rise, grounded
in sediment, shapes
carved in my sides: from here
I can be fearless as we
face the sun.