Photo by Alma Ortman

The shape of this smile started to change
when I let myself feel space
inside soil and me the same;
when my fingernails grew long all on their own
so that I could more easily peel the
oldest pieces of weight off my shoulders,
slivers of steel and early selves that began falling
like water, the soil strong enough
and warm enough to absorb it all,
earth teaching me how to let go
and how to alchemize;
my smile teaching me like sunlight does
through trees,
like joy when it merges with the birds’,
like pain when it rests with grass.

Feet stay light amidst the large waves of life
that will continue to rise and fall,
now feeling space inside a vessel
of human body and soil even wider than earth,
I sit back. I quiet. Letting in ease.
We exhale.

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© 2021 Alma Ortman. All Rights Reserved

Mindful poet & lifelong learner. Musings on belonging, authentic connection, joy, spirit, body, nature, inner work, vulnerability, self-love, fierce compassion