Etchings Of A Roe Deer Fawns By Kurt Meyer-Eberhardt (1895-1977)

Etchings of a Roe deer fawns by Kurt Meyer-Eberhardt (1895-1977)

I feel like her now that my hair has grown out. I wish my bangs have too…

I spent the afternoon in the yard, blowing dandelions.

My brother was chopping them all down later in the day, along with all of the grass. The grass was fine, plain and not naturally occurring in its species.

The dandelion meant more to me. They were relentless and animate. They were host to an entire ecosystem; including humans should they care to them.

When I am having days that are unending and all consuming. Days where I feel too much in the center of it’s purpose, I run to the dandelions. I let them prickle at my legs. An entire world of pollinators, uninvolved with my previous routine. I am home here, too.

I couldn’t imagine losing them so quickly, but they are far more powerful than us. “Weeds.” They are far from it. What distinguishes wanted and unwanted? They cannot provide an answer we are looking for. It does not exist there. They will grow back. Their existence will be a pain to some, but a relief to others; to me.

Thank you for returning, I will say. Thank you for not giving up. They will not respond, and they do not need to. I am asking more of myself, now.

More than that, I could not stomach the idea of all of those wishes being torn down. Being taken away. I needed to finish its life cycle for it, now it has become human.

Each flower becomes a new hope. I am safe, I say. I am loved, I say. I am capable, I say. Halfway through the herd, I begin to believe myself. I am wanted here, I say. I am taking part in a larger process, I say. I can fulfill myself, I say.

And the seeds travel, they soar. Covering new parts of yard, sailing over fence lines, tucking themselves within other mature plants.

They do not know they will be forced to mourn later, there is too much time to celebrate.

i’m like if gregor samsa turned into a lesbian

Guard dog