They look at me with their eyes peeping through heavy eyeliner.
They sneer at me through perfectly glossed lips
That spit out their name for me, “Dirt.”
I don’t fight back.
I don’t argue or get upset,
Because they are right.
They are more right than they will ever know.
I am dirt.
But they don’t know that dirt is beautiful.
Dirt is low.
It is beneath their feet.
And they turn up their noses at it,
But the dirt is their foundation.
Without the dirt they would fall forever;
Cease to exist.
They don’t know just yet,
But they need dirt.
Dirt, they think is dead,
But they just don’t listen
Close enough to hear the earth breathe.
They cannot smell the scent the earth
Through the smell of their concealer.
But if they did
They would smell hope and love.
Dirt is nurturing.
Dirt gives the world endless possibilities.
Without dirt nothing would ever grow
Or reach new heights.
They cannot feel the dirt beneath their designer shoes.
And they’d never pick it up in their hands
To feel the damp coolness that they came from.
But if they did
They would feel the tears that fell there
That helped it to foster life.
They’d feel the power
That radiates from deep within it.
They would feel its soft caress upon their skin.
They cannot know dirt.
They refuse to believe that there is
Something there
That is more than what it appears.
But if they knew dirt
They would know that dirt is beautiful.
Dirt is grounded
Solid
Loving
Fertile
Colorful
Rich
And alive.
They would know that dirt is powerful
And that dirt is all they have ever wanted to be.
So yes, I am dirt.
And I am powerful.