Member-only story
Dirt
Basil lines my window sill
floating to my nose
bright, spicy sweetness dances in the air.
I breathe it into my lungs, my heart, my soul.
I’m transported from my Brooklyn apartment.
I’m eight
standing on my Grandma’s farm,
the dusty road beneath my feet.
Oak trees sway in the wind.
Close your eyes, she says.
My mouth open.
Waiting.
A fresh, tangy, earthy delight arrives.
It’s like I’ve tasted raspberry for the first time.
Then, rows of beans need tending.
I revel in the earth,
the grassy scent a balm.
I drink in the dirt, the plants, the fresh air.
I’m a world away.
No longer caged
by concrete and brick.
I run and I run.
I am one with the earth, the sky,
the soul of my ancestors
who made their life in this dirt.
This poem was written during Jacqueline Suskin’s class Every Day is a Poem.
