to be human is not an act of desecration to live humanly is not anathema to nature. I do not apologize for my humanness. -----------------------------------------------* I do not apologize for the flower I picked and carried in my hand to the mountaintop. I spoke to the flower like an old friend then loosed her on the wind watching petals and stamen soar across the river rich valley below. I do not apologize for this. -----------------------------------------------* I do not apologize for the shade I stand in cast by brick and mortar and bitumen. I do not apologize for the steel faucet I turn loosing earth-cooled water from buried pipes, filling my mouth with metallic-tinged life crystal and blooming, pouring down my chin, splashing crisp against my bare feet. I do not apologize for this seasonal waterfall. ------------------------------------------------* I do not apologize for trails followed through grass and wood, for the dent in the forest floor where I sat and shared lunch with a kingfisher: ----------He, a silver-green fish, snared fresh ----------I, clementine, grown far from this alpine stream. ------------------------------------------------* To be human is not an act of desecration. I am nature as trees nature as salmon spawned in rivers far from the sea nature as lichen on scree nature as lion, as leopard ----------as beaver, as bison nature as wildfire, as hurricane as water lifted as mist, as water dropped in flakes as daisies carpeting desert sands. I am nature as the curious cat– slow stalking intrigue delight of game, of pounce of crunch, of blood glutted and full of mouse. I am humanness. I am holiness. I am a masterpiece.
Laura Leigh Cissell (she/they) is an autistic, queer Texan expat residing in the Colorado foothills. They are the head of data analytics for a tech startup, an MFA candidate at Regis University, a spouse, parent, and occasionally a poet. Laura’s greatest sadness is that all the sea turtles of the world will never know how much she loves them.
South Broadway Ghost Society 