The Wind, Park & Me
Baking under the sun, I grasp at any semblance
of what it feels to be complete,
To be whole in what is tumultuous being human,
I discard my lowest functions and yet you remain as though I am bound to you by love,
which I must figure I am.
The tree taps me on the shoulder To tell me to look at what I'm missing, Mother Nature sure has better eyesight than I, She speaks, not with her own mouth, but
serendipity, The gentle wind across blades of grass, signing off on a beautiful future I am too human to see.
I take my time, watching the grass dance, To the same wind that rises up my body, It is cold but I am whole,
Again one with nature, in all its multiplicity.
when you choose not to look at the butterfly,
you are not sparing it of its beauty,
it still exists,
as do you
when people turn away from you.
Pink washes over the city,
And I forget how to hate.
words by Emmanuel James Barco
images by @hteettar