Mortar

I have made myself alone
as I said I would,
I have begun reading the unfinished books
as I said I would,
I have taken myself down from the push.
I have stopped writing little notes to myself
to find my way out.
I have said the words I always knew aloud,
I have taken them out of my purse.

I thought it would be plain.
I thought the dirt I could taste would be in my hand
to rub around,
to soil the depleted places.

But a whole patch was taken out from me.
A place with bricks and mortar
I made with my spit and hands,
and little walls we made and left.

I have not yet started running.
To my country I miss so,
to the plants where I know tall stalks could grow.

For it’s not the gaps I miss,
it’s the thick and holding walls.

I am drooping,
looking down at the petals.
the petals I knew.