Truly, We Are Soil

Like teenagers who walk ahead of the parents who embarrass them.
we pretend the ground underfoot is no relation,

wash our hands of it with water made pure by soil;
eat soil and sun and wind and pretend it’s some other thing called food.

Like a two year old who has learned the power of no,
we deny we depend on what we stamp our feet on—

soil, who keeps a grave and humble silence,
always waiting, below.