Contributor: Susan Sweetland Garay

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I am from the wet green forest,
where leaves decompose
under our feet
and moss drips
from the trees.

Where ferns grow
from the cracks
in cement walls
and it seems that
nature always wins.

In this place we
release what is
dark and thick
and smells like life

to prepare the ground around us,
so it is full of richness
from the selves that
we let fall away.

Then in the fall time
when the harvest comes
and the air turns cool,
we reap.

We dig
and eat
and dry
and enjoy
and try to make
it last for as long as possible.

We bring the colors
of the outside in.

We peel and plan
and watch the rain that
hasn’t stopped falling for days.

Water makes a million tiny rivers
unconcerned about what
they may wash away.

The land is powerless
against it.

Her power
is found in
her softness,
her flexibility,
her knowing that

we are not
the center
of anything.



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