I was an orchid planted in desert and on the art of leaving I was no expert. My roots were on fire and my leaves were scalded, my stems thinned and my petals moulded. Desperate for water from an earth bone dry, it’s a miracle that I even survived.
It should have been easy to move away from chemical farmers dousing poisoned spray. Yet I believed that I could help them see the orchid they too were supposed to be. Only all were blind to logic and reason and encouraging compassion was treated as treason. I was powerfully, inextricably and painfully attached to the very poison from which I was hatched.