To lie
face down in
the earth until
becoming as soft
as the clay.
The ground absorbs
like the undulating
arms of an amoeba.
Swallows
whole while
sucking the soil
into lungs
with each breath
aerating seeds
and sprouting
between ribs––
out through the
breastbone.
To lie down
and inhale deep,
wet earth until
the bugs call me
sister and the
worms call me
friend and tomatoes
find new life
and turn me over
to face the sun.
Poem by Sarah Ray
Sarah is a poetry MFA student at Saint Mary’s College of California where she works at the Center for Environmental Literacy which houses the River of Words youth art and poetry contest where she is a judge. Sarah has been a writing coach and a teacher for ten years and enjoys writing ecopoetry, and inspiring young writers to express themselves through poetic expression. She lives in Oakland, CA with her husband and two kids.