Sacred Soil – a poem by Heather M. Browne

Sacred Soil

I wear no shoes
touching the earth
kissing the crush of dinosaur bones
tribal art of Indian’s
clay, mosaics, arrowheads
pointing to legends and lovers

My soles need soil
drawing truths through my pores
through roots of fern and moss

Do plants thirst, greedily gulping memories?
the veins of roses bleeding
carrying the vibrancy of shades past?
My toes touching
dinosaurs and diamonds

 

Heather M. Browne is a faith-based psychotherapist, recently nominated for the Pushcart Award, published in the Orange Room, Boston Literary Review, Page & Spine, Eunoia Review, Poetry Quarterly, Red Fez, Electric Windmill, Apeiron, The Lake, Knot, mad swirl.  Red Dashboard   published two collections: Directions of Folding and Altar Call of Trumpetswww.thehealedheart.net

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