i wonder what is left to learn,
i want to know where is left to wander.
i want to know how many miles
my bare feet must travel on rocky roads.
i want to discover what parts
of this world still have sharp teeth;
to see if the mountain ranges
will be able to swallow me whole.
i’d like to know what languages
the rivers try to sing to us in,
what the stars are trying to map
when they wink at me in the darkness.
i wonder if i will ever truly know
what it is like to make my body part of
this earth: to be real, to be present,
to have the vines grow through my bones.
to have flowers blossom from my eye sockets,
cliffs jutting from the small of my back.
the earth is calling, teasing, pulling me to her.
and all the while, she is singing, —
“darling, oh my darling,
i have never wanted to be so enveloped
by something in all of my life.”
mari jagt, 2018.