Senses of Safari

The smells of the land in which we all came from,

it’s earthy 

grassy 

woody 

It smells of the shades of green,

sometimes the smell of animals who just left,

like all the minerals of the dirt.

The wind rushing into my ears,

the grass swaying and rustling below us.

The cracked mud 

mirroring the unique pattern of the elephant skin

The Mother Animal

The sounds of these beautiful beasts,

their vibrational call

shoots deeply into my body

Penetrating my skin and sinking into my blood

pumping into my heart

They rule this land, and you can feel it

Their matriarchal order,

showing us what can be

The mother trees,

for years, painting the African skyline,

making some of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.

They provide homes for the creatures to return to.

Over time, they lean,

they endure weathering,

and in one moment, they have their breaking moment,

they lay,

unveiling their intricate branches

closer than we’ve ever seen them

seeing their cracked bark so close up

so low to the earth,

My heart weighs with them on the safari floor.

A piece of me is left with them,

for no one but my mom and me, stopping to appreciate them.

There are live animals,

live trees,

but what about those mothers who once did so much for the safari?

Now she lays within me.