fredi weitzel

Dirt under my fingernails

I couldn't see it, at first,
but I knew it was there.
It took anxiously chipping away the pale blue polish to reveal
the thick layer of earth outlining the shape of my fingers -- 
ten dark brown, beautiful little crescent moons.
Moons that had evolved through the many hours spent 
turning soil, unearthing nutrients, clearing space 
for new life to grow.
Spent relentlessly itching mosquito bites, 
massaging sandy scalps, and harvesting aloe
in hopes of soothing my burnt skin 
with its magical, gooey center...
Hours spent digging up kalo root
and sitting with satiety of stomach and soul.
Moons of regeneration and experience; the
naked realities of living.

Dirt under my fingernails