forty-eight.

on my knees in a forest
that smells like rain
in the cool of the morning.
the dirt is wet under
my hands and i can smell
the leaves that have
been giving the rainwater
to the ground all night.
i thought i'd fallen asleep in
a desert, everything dry
and hurting, dry and aching,
dry and ready to give up.
i thought i'd fallen asleep alone
and i thought i was worth
something less for letting my
heart get tired, weary.
But this rain permeates all in
the forest i woke up to.
Each drop falls from the sky
and multiplies, bursting
into a nourishment that no other
cloud could provide,
soaking into every surface and
filling old cells, replenishing
old wineskins, renewing a dry and
tired heart. dig my fingers
into the fresh black earth, dirt
under my fingernails and
a smile on my face. there's no
need for tears when rain
like this cleans every part of me,
makes everything fresh
and fills up my heart like a puppy
drinking mama's milk.