by Dina Jael
In times of isolation and darkness, as our shells painfully crack open, may we embrace growth and await the reveal of our inner beauty.
M E R A K I .*. d i n a j a e l
The fixation of my hands
is upon the soil beneath me.
It calls me to nurture it,
thus I immerse in its moist nature.
Even the worms collaborate
in this messy downward journey,
softly lingering through my fingers.
Dirt and chaos everywhere,
as I penetrate the chosen spot.
The mycelium awaiting patiently
the arrival of the unaffected seed.
“Spread the news to the Mother Trees!” -they say
“this naive carapace has now entered deep.”
I comfort it with a blanket of mud,
hoping it feels tight and snug.
I carry myself away from the little one,
trusting the light will dry up its tears.
The days pass,
and soon a crackling sound
awakes my eyes.
Is it already time?
I rush to the garden,
encounter nothing but a sad sob.
What is it you need my tiny little dot?
“I need you to hold me, I’m breaking apart”.
A motherly sigh poures down from the clouds,
sparkling drops gently entering the ground.
As a melody of love lifts from a song,
a spirit of warmth prevails the dawn.
The short lived pain has gone astray,
the darkest night fleeted away.
The sun rises and sets.
Rooted secrets are blooming out the edge.
Stretching arms begin to unfold;
sprouting joy; neverending growth.
I stare at such greatness,
as the whistling wind carries out loving scents of graces.