This post showcases my underlying feelings about being a child in America in the twenty-first century, which is equal parts horrifying and exhilarating… http://www.katyamills.com/2015/08/the-child.html
I was grown from the earth, in my mother whose very life depended on the earth, the vegetables pushing out of mineral soil.
I faced the sun gave life to the plants, like another plant was i. For when the sun fell, again and again i found my head down in the dark, gaze to the ground, eyelashes a flutter then clasped shut for the night.
Many a fire came over my soul, burning through all of my being. For a time, as a child, they tried to put me out. Still i burned. Incendiary. Until natural i burned myself out.
Only the rain that emboldened the soil to create its next wonder, could put out our fires.
Like a period puts out a sentence.
Like a woman puts out a candle.
Like a man puts out a hunger.
Like poetry and prayer extinguish the thirst.