I lay my body down to rest in the soil. It is moist against my skin, dark like me. I rest and I think.

I can feel my body loosen; I peer down my chest as I begin to unravel. My wounds open and I hiss from the pain. A heart can’t beat when it’s broken. Every beat feels like the swell of a flame. It chars my flesh as it burns through my body. I allow the pain to navigate itself from my head to my toes, sinking into the soil below.

My chest tightens as I feel myself become consumed by water. My breath falls from my lips in ragged labor, harsh like waves in a storm. I allow the water to seep through my pores. I sweat and I cry until the soil around me thickens into mud.

I burn and I sweat and I cry in a never-ending loop.

Is this how I die? It can’t be.

Just before I close my eyes, I catch a flower blooming inside of my wound. I feel the roots make their home beneath my skin. Where the wounds brought pain, the flowers bring relief. Peace. The teary-eyed soil clings to me, feeding the flower. They begin to bloom all over, filling my lacerations with petals of every color.

A heart can beat when it heals again. My breath passes my lips with ease. I grow with the flowers until I am one with them. A garden where I once laid broken. An environment of love where it once held pain.

Although the roots hold me in place, it is here that I finally feel free.


12 thoughts on “Wounds/Garden

    1. Pastor Bucas Sterling III says:

      I love this. It’s very thoroughly replete with theology, science and psychological therapeutic medicine. Your vision and debt are exceeding of your age but evidence of the greatness bond up in you that is being released through your writing.

      Liked by 1 person

    2. L. Tutt says:

      This is very well written articulate and the imagery is awesome I can almost imagine being there and being that flower and being that free…. good job! I loved it!

      Liked by 1 person

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