Page 48 - HEF Pen & Ink 2023
P. 48

By Luisa Hocquel
  By Taya Munden
By Ava Kittrell
I am grass.
Born from secluded, nurtured dirt; fed by plentiful, delicious nutrients; and grown with gentle, clean waters.
I am growing.
Every day, I will be longer and stronger, and I will prevail over inferior plant forms.
Every day I will greet people in the mornings, af- ternoons, and whenever they please like personal support to their daily lives. Every day, they will expect more of my beauty as I flaunt a sparkling emerald green, sparkling chlorophyll underneath a burning morning fire.
Can they see?
They love the soft green locks that spurt out of precious soil. They love the scent of morning dew seeping beneath my loamy home in their backyards, filling their noses with the scent of damp topsoil and freshly watered bugs. They love the complementary touch of my insignifi- cant life against their own.
Can you see?
Soon, there will be a time when I am not so beau- tiful and lush. Now, there is a time when, to your eyes, I am ugly and rigid. Then, there was a time when I was once used as a young family’s favorite picnic spot. Since, only prying fingers and kicking rubber soles will find me any use.
I am still grass. Yellow and rigid; depressed and crunched; wistful and snapped.
I am still growing. Feeding my roots, watering my body, and minding my soil.
They can see me. My dying potential, the smell of neglect, and an overbearing presence that I will hold over their heads until the day they perish like I had.
You can see me. One day, rejuvenating my youth. One day, regaining my pride. One day, recovering my ambi- tion.
For now I may feel crushed and fated, but not for any longer. Simple grass will shatter the illusion of guilt and conscience, and a light will shine upon me and my dolor peers–an orb full of hope and salvaged prosperity.
No more shall grass feel disgraced and trapped for appearing tarnished and sulked. End is necessary for all steps you take, and this too will end with a bitter taste on your tongue and nothing more.
Grass is still grass. No matter the time, day, year, or weather. No matter the place, people, quantity, or quali- ty.
Grass will take beauty and grass will take grace as hero. Just as grass will take plainness and grass will take brute force as villain. Two sides of the same coin pit against each other can never touch superficially, but under the surface, We are united in sameness.

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