Seeding

I sink my skin into the soil
Place a beginning
Under a black, damp blanket.
I am an instrument
Of the making magic -
The Sun says so.

I touch more places,
But some only see dirt -
Ask me to clean it up.

I can not understand resistance 
To scattered bits of beauty.

I have faced it all my life.

What kind of soul 
Would not want 
This earth

Filled with flowers? 



LJ Ireton 
C. 2023 

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