Cottonwoods or Pavements

by Serena Montoya

I feel suffocated from the stench of

wilted life living outside of my bedroom window.

But my soul clings to the sap of cottonwoods

for it longs to flow like silkworms

swaying through the air on a sunny June afternoon

as I’m held within the tire swing that carried us through childhood.

It didn’t matter that dirt lived on our skin

we were one with nature.

Now I’m craving the taste of soil,

but lost in the bitterness of pavement.

I wander the road, searching for a sprout

to appear at my feet so I may pluck it from the Earth,

to eat and taste home before the streetlights set me on fire.

Where do the silkworms take root when

they are met with cement?

Scrape up the clutter you call city,

where the streets are littered with plastic

and coated in human feces.

Bring me a bouquet of lilacs

to plant in the meadow of my soul, so I can finally

breathe in life to breathe it back out.

I will build a garden where my roots once reached,

where the soil is rich and the trees applaud our laughter.

Because a soul can only hold its breath until

it fades —

or breaks through the cracks.

It starts with You, and it flows within me.

We will build a new home, and

I will grow within the sunlight.

Forever rising —

like a sunflower reaching towards Heaven.