My mom always tells us kids that she wants to be buried in a piece of land. Even if we cremate her, she wants to be buried. To have a place, a plot, a spot marked out. We will honor this for her.
I was just thinking about this. I want a piece of land too. I want it before I die. I don't mean an acre to live on. I want a piece of land, a place, a plot, a spot marked out.
My piece of land will have fertile ground. I want to turn it over with a shovel. Oh to feel it in my hand. Feel it's velvety brownness sifting through my fingers, clinging under my fingernails. I want fertile ground.
My piece of land will grow things. I want to plant seeds in that rich earth. Carefully placing them in the ground. Carefully covering them with the soil. Carefully watering them and nurturing them and watching them and protecting them. I want to plant seeds.
My piece of land will grow a good crop. I'm not a farmer, but I want crops. Corn, tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, lettuce, beans, strawberries, melons, my crops. There will be fruit trees too, on my piece of land. Apples, oranges, lemons, pears, cherries hanging from the trees, ripe and ready to eat. I want crops.
My piece of land will have flowers. All around the border of my crops I will plant flowers. Beautiful flowers to beautify my little piece of land. I want flowers.
My piece of land will have a line of people on it. Hungry people. They will be in line for my crops. But they will really be our crops. They will help to work that fertile soil. They will help to plant those seeds. They will help to harvest the crop. With our hands we will feed ourselves. In our hands will be the fruit of our labor. In our hands will be a bouquet of flowers. In our hands will be a solution. I want a line of hungry people.
I want a piece of land. I want it before I die. I don't mean an acre to live on. I want a piece of land, a place, a plot, a spot marked out.
