Not many things align
in this life.

A moon in reverse
A tower
Another

Things couldn't be seen
so they won't be believed

That's the perception

So I tried
to sleep
and sleep,
to forget what,
in childhood minds
came to easily to - 

Three.
Two.
One.

"Hello, weary traveler"

Eyes opened.
Your eyes wide.

My feet landing
in your wet earth,
planted

Exhausted.
Conscious.

There,
I felt like I was somewhere familiar.

An old friend saying,

Not yet.

You've just got this
a little wrong.

Listen.

And it was listening
to everything else.

You reminded me of her - 

Bachue.
Mother.
Gaia.

We are all hers,
but sometimes
we forget it.

We lose the feeling
of the ground 
that holds you,
holds me.

You reminded me
of the safest places
I go in the dark:

crushed velvet

fireflies sprinkled
over July nights

the first cicadas
breaking out
of their shells

moonflowers blooming,

alstroemerias
and eucalyptus,

sipping peppermint team
while looking out
at the garden
through my abuelita's kitchen.

You had walked there too.

You had know a place -
differently, perhaps.

I hope you never
know it again

But it has allowed you
this grace,
these blessings

Your garden is beautiful

Quiet

Thank you
for your care,

and for allowing
a weary traveler
a sense of peace
amidst their war

You've left beauty
in your wake.

I could only hope
to plant more seeds
along my travels.

Ipqua uaque

-She Writes Horror on IG & shewritesofhorror.com is the website