You may see a wreck
Pointless pile of rubble
But watch where you step
Memories survive here
Beautiful palette of wild
Each particle a part of me
You may see rocks or meaningless pebbles. I see generations of my family walking this trail together. The dust you feel on your cheek was made by my grandfather’s boots. Men who worked countless hours to bring variegated boulders off mountains and creeks.
This muddy ground is the true stability I craved, as a young girl who needed to feel safe, and not just a vessel to walk upon. You may see weak or wild grass, which you consider far too thin. I noticed the movement of the wind, as it traveled the terrain of these mountains, a wild strength on its approach. Offering a young woman security and comfort, while she embraced a protective sway.
You notice simple yellow flowers, maybe considering their lack of generous beauty, before dismissing their worth. I remember a bouquet of brave flowers growing and welcoming me each summer, a spectacular vision for my homecoming. Allowing me the peace to believe that lingering sorrows would surely be eliminated here, as I familiarized myself with seeing love. Wildflowers promising I’d shine once again, if I would only breathe and recall their ability to thrive.
This is what I recall when I look at this patch someone else might find insignificant. It fixed me. For those who see what I see, I will take your pain as mine.