Foundational Knowing
The sacred vows of those who go before reach their roots deep into the earth, foundational knowing, like the oak tree, tall; her shade covers the yellow dandelions randomly growing in the green grass. I am the dandelion, blown about and random, covered by the mottled darkness, protection from the noonday sun, the only sky I know. I wait for the next gust of wind with my hands clenched, eyes shut, but face turned toward the sun. Bravery close up. In the winter of life, all we have left is our self-respect. It is enough. © Christine Salkin Davis, 2020