To Much Earth

Center me, center me, center me.
I ground myself.
I am the dirt. I am the trees. I am the grass.
I am afraid.
It creeps into the cracks of my lips.
Seeps into my mouth.
Pours down my tongue.
Tastes like bitter, like bark, like dirt.
I can't find my center here.
There is to much earth. Not enough water. Not enough fire.
The sand bunches between my toes.
Water laps at my ankles.
I am drawn in.
The air blasts me in the face with the scent of calm.
No candle can recreate the scent.
Waves slapping the shore free my mind.
Gentle, calm, blue, green.
The rocks are sharp but my mind feels clear again.
I go to where the lake connects with the sky and the glade.
A fire awaits me.
The blaze slicks it's self across the bark.
Crackling.
Here is my center.
I take the place into my mind.
Wear it like a bindi. Place it on my minds eye.
So when I open it, I can see the safety. I can see the calm.
My center is here, my center is here, my center is finally here.

Written August 15, 2011