i lay down on the forest ground, surrounded by dead leaves and moss. cool against pale skin. my mouth full of flowers and grass. growing through my cheeks into the fresh soil. grounding. refreshing. i close my eyes and feel raindrops like freckles on my skin. smell the storm clouds and shiver with anticipation like the trees. i take a breath through the mushrooms growing out of my lungs. deep. clean. i'm glowing, radiating freedom. the raindrops roll down like tears of joy. of relief. i stretch out my arms and where my fingertips touch, seeds start to sprout. new life. fresh beginnings. sprouts come out of my fingertips, fragile. soft leaves. i stretch out my legs on the moss and feel it growing into my skin, drawing water and nutrients. i let it. a slow give and take. the wind caresses me carelessly, blows some soil off my lips and sends the leaves to dance around me. i lay still, like the rocks. like dead tree trunks, rotting away in silence, not suffering but reveling in the integrity. to be part of a system where to die means to live. and i am in between. i am becoming one with the forest around me.
{Flora Hansen}
