The storm clouds have dissipated,
Cooled by the steady downpour of tears.
The thundering crashes and jolting bolts have refrained,
Hushed by vigilant discernment and practice.
A calm so bold and boisterous has settled in,
Stabilizing unassuming weather patterns.
With my feet securely planted in the soil,
I am in-touch with my roots.
My toes, arches and heels extend deep into the dirt,
Connecting me to memory after memory after memory.
My toes wiggle playfully in the soil,
Jogging my memory of joyful times.
My heels dig deep into the dirt,
Uncovering the rocky hard-to-handle memories.
I tense up.
As my arches press firmly into the soil,
I watch the dirt spill over the tops of my feet.
The joyful and hard-to-handle are harmoniously bridged.
My feet: toes, arches and heels are grounded in the soil,
Connecting me to all that is me.
My roots: past, both fond and “rather forgotten”
are the life-sustaining lessons needed for growth.
The storm clouds have dissipated.
My feet have sunk steadily into the warm wet earth,
Fastening me with my roots,
Preparing me for new growth.