Green Party

My skin hums along with the language of birds
Perched in chlorofyll-hued trees that sway and
Melt in rising sun. I, too, take this light and
Convert it into energy, letting it sift through
The cells of my body, expanding and contracting
In due course. Filled with water and the tendons of
Root vegetables, this body is more composed of
Earth than air and I feel stagnant. The mechanical
Process of eating becomes less a quest of nourishment
And more the escapist method for annihilating the
Monotony of day to day living. The monotony
Comes from within, from the unnoticeable churn
Of machinery that shivers in my ear, at the base
Of my jawline. Right, there is nothing monotonous
About breaking off small pieces of the earth
And masticating out bursts of energy that allow me
To breath, to run, to sigh, to cry over the beating of
A heart that was never taught to love itself because
We are never reminded of the miracles we may be.
Small pieces of the earth that we are, small pieces
We remain and return to, forever churned,
Forever glowing for the future.

Author: Erica V.

Always seriously joking and rambunctiously soft-spoken.

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