I feel 100 years old, my body has been taken over by an old soul. They are made of vines and they gather life by holding it around their rib. That is where hope lives. They tell me to sing but all I can do is gulp and inhale.
This old soul knows what few imagine to be true, life happens when you participate within it rather than simply letting it happen around you. Life happens when you try, without trying, you are dead muscle finding itself moving in time.
They learnt this the hard way, by spilling their life with excuses and people pleasing ways. They were afraid and thus this time around they told me to scream, not simply sing, let it all out, I should hide nothing within. I should bellow to the sky and shake the raindrops into my sight.
I am scared.
It pours down, my dignity and grace, pooling at my feet, my sweat, my tears, consuming me, until I hear a cry. A child creeps up from behind my legs and I see that my old body is dead, engulfed by the vines and the moss that once cluttered ribs. My lips red with the winter sun, my eyes yellow like the autumn leaves,slowly consumed from beneath. I pull myself down from the sky and stare at this young face.
What do they need?
They scream as soon as this thought hits me, they pull the rest of my body to the ground with that one vibrating sound and I see that my body always belonged to the leaves and the roots, my sound intimately tied to the growth of fruits.