To the Girl Who Cried Over Grass
       

If this is for her, then this is for all
things uprooted,

the human desire
to cultivate.

For each new daily violence,
the ones we
cannot contain any more,
they swell
our tongues.
There was grass,
summer grass, and her
small body crying for what was
being pulled, each stop
lifting me from
the ground, stop
unearthing
the god in me.

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Copyright © 2021 Brooke Sahni All rights reserved
from Divining
Orison Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission