Roots
As a child, I thought maybe if I stood still long enough barefoot, I might grow roots. Digging my toes through moss I tried clinging to trees begging for their enlightenment on being taken into the earth, but I never stuck. After what must have been hours I would pull my warmed toes back up into the air without resistance, and I would run. Outside of living motionless running felt like the only way I could feel everything at once and the pads of my feet began to callous. Soon, I could no longer feel the soil cling to my toes and in a panic, I accepted shoes.
Since that day I have only found roots in dreams. Burying my feet beneath heaps of earth I know what it feels like to become a part of something. I dream of sleeping in the earth and breathing her gifts through my skin. Unrestricted I grow into the places and people I love, drawing life on their skin with the roots of my fingertips. I never wear shoes in my dreams.
To this day I can hold still long enough for wild birds to perch on my shoulders and frogs to hop across my feet. Now though, I can rise without the urge to flee. Walking slowly through the grass, gravel, life and stone I have learned to feel things slowly, to savor. Returning to my bed I remember these places; I only sleep to dream.
Since that day I have only found roots in dreams. Burying my feet beneath heaps of earth I know what it feels like to become a part of something. I dream of sleeping in the earth and breathing her gifts through my skin. Unrestricted I grow into the places and people I love, drawing life on their skin with the roots of my fingertips. I never wear shoes in my dreams.
To this day I can hold still long enough for wild birds to perch on my shoulders and frogs to hop across my feet. Now though, I can rise without the urge to flee. Walking slowly through the grass, gravel, life and stone I have learned to feel things slowly, to savor. Returning to my bed I remember these places; I only sleep to dream.