What in my life pulls me when all else has silenced down

The Soil

Not the digital, not the keys; networked
Not the social, not the likes; belonged

The Soil

When life has not adjourned, with irises; withered
When lists as lazy resemblances of urgency; quieted

The Soil

Not the bride nor the groom; acknowledged
Not the accounting, not scores unsettled; washed

The Soil

When hands are pointing downward; strengthened
When sculpting clay, compost, mud, adobe; adored

The Soil

grounded in peaceful togetherness of solitudes; loved
and freeing openness, and celestial orbiting, and futures long; told

The dark Soil beckons, not pulls me,
when all else has had; silenced
for it is not a question
answering an invitation
for self-reflection
For The Soil, I am soil.

—animasuri’22