My Inner Self
Swallowing the Sun
Unhealthy habits grow in sun-deficient soil;
it is difficult to weed them out.
They wrap up around my toes and dig me into the ground.
Prodding into my veins, roots plunge through my
Chest:
Crack-
ing
Ca-
ving
Plunging downward, my back drops onto the earth.
There’s a special kind of safety when I find it after panic.
I uncurl my fingers and face my palms to the sun
asking,
quietly,
for her warmth.
Heal my body and mind.
Give me strength to be kind.
My chest greets her light.
The sun bends her fingers into the divots of my rib cage,
She pulls my chest open s o w i d e —
I swallow her entirely.
Her arms wrap around you:
My Inner Self.
The sun’s light shrivels the weeds, and
gives you warmth to grow
big enough to face me.
We merge into one and I feel whole—
My chest:
vulnerable
ready
to hold space for you.
About the Creator
Sone Kramer
navigating earth
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