it’s so easy to look to where i imagine the grass is greener,
in times that the clouds cover what light gets brought in,
when all i can see are shadows,
when all that consumes me is darkness.
it’s so much easier to look at where the grass is greener;
i forget how simple it can be,
to just tend to my own grass—
if i just felt it with my bare feet,
and crawled on my hands and knees,
to feel what it’s like
to be the grass below me,
that breathes in life.
curling up into a ball of my own sorrow
doesn’t feel so bad anymore,
when i think of how lively
the grass surrounding me would be.
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