The Maps We Made
When my feet touched ground again
my toes and heels landed
in separate hemispheres;
my arches caressed the equator.
Ahead: Giving soil, spring rain-soaked pasture
parts for me–its welcome
soothes my toes
amid pebbles and worms,
their sliver of Earth, they offer
for my roots to grow,
for my grounding as seasons eclipse.
And this green–
I had forgotten such shades existed
from way up in the sky.
Behind: The chill is a sedative.
My heels tense and loosen,
from high altitudes,
and with my eyes set forward,
glacier-like, its layers embalm past life.
But here, a reset.
Stasis, a lovely blank,
though the hush whispers promise of play
atop a slippery canvas.
What serenity, my heels lean against.
And I, my spine: A locationless Pole.
Neither North nor South,
neither lost nor imagined,
a space carved for my evolution
from was to will be–
and my trees will bear roots
that drink from warm soil
and lick crystalline ice.
This era: A rebuilding of the parts of me
I left among the clouds
before making my descent.