My father placed my palm to the ground.
“Feel the life beneath,” he said.
I felt molten rock shift, sighs of tides,
chisel of wind and fire
shaping the contours of the land
where we stood.
We walked hills and fields, collecting
shale, sandstone, quartz, obsidian—
He knew the names to give each stone,
taught me how to find directions at noon,
with sun at my back.
“You are facing North,” he said.
I knew gales could shift mountains,
nothing could be solid for all time,
yet with my father’s hand in mine,
the earth anchored me with unconditional
love.
—Previously Published in Driftwood “Earth” issue
Rosalie Sanara Petrouske has been widely published in various literary magazines, including Passages North, Southern Poetry Review, Third Wednesday and the Red Rock Review. She teaches at Lansing Community College, and founded Writing at the Ledges in 2005. Photo also taken by Rosalie Sanara Petrouske
