Rough ribbons
Flow through the choppy
Stone, mirroring my veins.
I touch the divots in
The rocks and feel the
Marks and holes
Just like my skin.
I notice the lines and
The colors of the trees
Which reminds me of
Where I was born.
The richness of
My Earth Mother
Fills me and reflects my
Beauty.
My body,
Her body,
Is my home.
Brialee Turner 