Into Green
I don’t want this form anymore
The Ephemeral is a reader supported publication and is a main part of my income for the past year. Unfortunately I’m now on a job hunt in less than ideal circumstances, if you have ever thought you might want to become a paid subscriber consider this your sign to support a little writer! Either way I so deeply appreciate you all, you give me hope and a bit of trust in myself. Thank you for being here
I don’t want this form anymore
Could I melt my body and grow anew?
I ache to plant my feet in soil and trade my limbs for roots
I wonder what it is to be a tree. To grow so slowly, for my life to to unfurl from the hard pearl of a seed. I wonder what it is for a fledgling leaf to sprout. Not the leaves that will grow for the rest of my long life but the supple green of sprout hood. To evade bugs and birds and slugs and snails to grow another leaf and prevail. I wonder what it is to feel that first real leaf to grow. A new one, perhaps shaped as a star.
If I lay back flush with rich soil will I turn to moss? My clothes disintegrate into green. Maybe a sphagnum, plush and carpeted.
Do mosses know each other? Do they speak in whispers only they can hear. I know that mushrooms do. Maybe I could become interconnected too. A system invisible to human eyes. Maybe the pain of humanity would ease with that gentle connection. To never feel alone but know my place in the world.
I do not want a self. It would not do to become some creature. To be responsible for others. There is too much of that here. I want to wind long tendrils, stretch up towards the light grasping at any purchase. To live a harmony so divine. To live in symbiosis
Beautiful and evocative!