I’m too embarrassed to sit barefoot in another’s garden

When you’ve spent long enough time in the city, you might find yourself questioning whether nature will ever welcome you back. There’s a feeling of shame associated with your quiet return, a hesitation that might debilitate you. She knows you’ve been extracted from her bosom, but she also knows you had a choice to hold onto the trunk of her trees and resist the urge to seek more.

But you didn’t.

Your greed alienated you.

It convinced you that your mother’s warmth won’t ever be enough.

Abundance breeds lack.

Abundance builds lack a mansion.

You try to escape the mansion but it traps you. It suffocates you. It chokes you and dances to the sound of your muted shrieks.

And when you beg her to loosen her tight grip and follow the trail of light, you find yourself at the mercy of the home you fought so hard to escape.

But mother does not shame you for leaving. She expands with every step you take towards her. Life crawls up your toes to mimic the life soaring above your head. Nature is forgiving, at least that’s what she has me shown me.

I see the mansion behind me. It still whispers my name, while nature buries its calls beneath ballads that guide my movement. The birds sing songs that I only understand when I don’t try to. The wind, their messenger, clasps the hand of the vine leaves and teaches them how to braid my curls, until they unravel me, leaving a trail down my bare skin.

In that moment, I surrendered to nature in all her glory. I stopped resisting and gave myself to her. She refused to take. She kept on giving.

She is endless.

An infinite universe that expands with every breath I take, with every attempt I make to exist outside the confines of my body and mind.

The shame of return, once heavy, dissolves into her soil. It is absorbed, forgiven, and no longer mine to carry.