Soil:
My hands are filthy,
Filthier than they have ever been.
Caked in dark brown soil,
Pebbles and compost and leaves and coconut fiber
Covering every inch of my skin.
My hands are battered,
More battered than they have ever been.
Blistered from carrying heavy loads,
And moving the dark brown soil,
Filled with splinters
From the sharp thorns of the majestic
Mesquite trees.
My arms are tired,
More tired than they have ever been.
Day after day they have turned the earth,
Watered the plants,
Which have grown in magical ways,
Swept the floors
dug holes in the earth.
Yet I am happier,
Happier than I have ever been.
The soil has healed me,
Cleansed me,
Cleaned me
of the pollution,
the dirt,
the insanity
Of the city that I am from.
About the Author: Liliana Colon is a 20 year old mentee in the Writing Works program. She is from New York City and is currently taking a gap year from college to better explore her passions. She entered and was one of the winners of the My Simple Realization writing contest for her personal essay entitled “Sheltered”. She is looking forward to new opportunities for growing and cultivating her love for writing.
