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“Know Your Ground Despite my blistered hands And calloused knuckles And over-taxed knees I cannot grow tomatoes It’s the soil, they said, Have your tested your levels? Calcium. Sand. Nitrogen. Clay. You must know your ground. But only lately have I walked this land Of my inheritance, Only recently looked At the wild mystery That lives beneath my toes, Only newly raked My fingers through earth And wondered, Is this bone that eroded To silt in my hand? Life that bled iron To fashion this bed? History that tastes So sweet on my tongue? In my frivolous hunger I surrendered my birthright. In your just disapproval I fled from my ground And now I fear this dormant soil Will never grow for me.” — Laura Kauffman
Know Your Ground
Despite my blistered hands
And calloused knuckles
And over-taxed knees
I cannot grow tomatoes
It’s the soil, they said,
Have your tested your levels?
Calcium. Sand.
Nitrogen. Clay.
You must know your ground.
But only lately
have I walked this land
Of my inheritance,
Only recently looked
At the wild mystery
That lives beneath my toes,
Only newly raked
My fingers through earth
And wondered,
Is this bone that eroded
To silt in my hand?
Life that bled iron
To fashion this bed?
History that tastes
So sweet on my tongue?
In my frivolous hunger
I surrendered my birthright.
In your just disapproval
I fled from my ground
And now I fear this dormant soil
Will never grow for me.