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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