the skin i wear is dry. 

i fear that my knees 

have been on the floor 

for too long.

pleading for my loss 

to return. 

 

my mother said, 

“mix lime with honey, 

add a teaspoon of sugar,

and rub it to your darkening skin.

that makes the ash

go away. 

i should know 

for i have burned too long.”

so i set myself on fire.

 

then you came.

you extinguished me.

you bathed me in a mixture 

of salt and water.

you said it was good 

for healing wounds. 

then you patted me dry 

with a turkish cotton towel

you said it was good 

to absorb the tears. 

then you massaged my body 

in baby oil.

you said it was good

for maintaining the shine. 

 

i remained still

so all of the ashes 

could fall onto the ground. 

the nutrients seeped into the soil

allowing previous life 

to return.

the rebirth of a forest all

because of you. 

 

a plethora of oaks 

timelessly alive. 

our names carved 

on every single one. 

a symbol of us. 

 

the burning, 

the healing, 

and the vibrancy of life 

engulfed us to one another. 

 

i was a dry land 

wildfires occurring at every moment.

untamable and dangerous. 

only capable of seeing destruction. 

yet you came 

and turned me into a life force. 

you healed my dry skin. 

you restored me and made me 

new.

the willingness to change 

and your continuous care 

created this. 

 

i know one day 

our forest may begin to crumble. 

the soil may spoil.

the animals may grow weary. 

my skin may begin to crack again. 

but i now know that

change is fine.

new life will always form.

and i will look at you and say,

“because i love you 

i will grow.”

you will hold me and say

“because i love you

i will help you grow.” 

 

and the process will yet again be

continuous.