when the land becomes you

My hair casts a palm tree shadow in the mid-day sun,
and it stretches over my skin;
my skin like sand,
basking in light and resting in the unlight.

I stretch my arms out and let the still brown of me take up space.
I wonder if I could hold back the ocean like this.

I wonder if I’ll have to.

I lean close to the window,
the daylight making mirror of it.
I see my freckles sitting proudly,
like shells, unafraid of fog or horn.

I praise them like
I am worthy of being carried home.

7 thoughts on “when the land becomes you


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