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When I wrote this poem the sky was grey and now it is blue










I look up at the sky every day

To see what color it is

It seems so important

As important as the bread on my table

And the water I drink so much of now

As though by living through this

I have dried out


Yet while I gaze upwards

I am rooted in the ground

Planted like a tuber

A bulb

Waiting for spring

Waiting for the moment I can pop my head out

And say

Hello?

I’m here

I’m back

(In color)


But not yet

The ground is heavy and wet

A dark sponge of moss and mud

Hydrating

(Like me)

And so I endure

And I look up at the sky

And see what color it is


There are astronauts up there

Untethered

Floating in space

And there’s a rover on Mars

Called Perserverence

A timely name

Reminding us to hold on

(Unlike those astronauts)


We are sent photos

Of the surface

A dusty arid desert

A place I recognize

But don’t know why

And I stare at them

When I am at home

Drinking more water

Eating bread

And feeling my roots grow deeper

And deeper in the soil

So that I can barely move


Stop

Breathe

It’s okay

It will be okay

There is life here

Above us and below us

And if I just turn my face upwards

Towards the sky

I can sometimes remember it





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