I crawl through the corn, like a child
which in a way is who I am in the fields
the roots of who I am--woven in the earth and its rhythms
I watch jam and dolls and trellised tomatoes
created from what is grown
I watch how the locals watch the land for rots and
weather and time
to tell when it's dry, sick, when we plant, and when we
take it from the ground
I watch the weeds wander up the stalks, mirror the crops,
grow with passion...displaced plants
I am a child who grew up with fruits and vegetables labeled from two states to the west or across the border
not grown outside our door, covered with our land's dirt
that trickles into our house on boots
engrained permanently on my hands
like the woman I admire greatly with calloused hands,
lively spirits, and a deep understanding for survival,
work, and simplicity
high desert Albertsons and city street Costco's
mark my beginnings
knowledge of what aisle each type of packaged food lies
like rows in a field, aisles 1 to 9 with marshmallows and
tin canned green beans
looks like a green bean...tastes like air, stale air, with salt
I am a child who knows how to read and type and has a
college degree
but is still not formed like some in Dixon
I feel young
I have never made cheese, canned food, yogurt
I have never made a pasture fence, or helped a birth, tilled land
I am a child with forming calloused hands and sunned skin,
taking part in an education
without books, professors, and late night deadlines
and instead filled with sunrises, waking up with my
hands asleep
same pair of pants and three shirts turning from white to the shades of the garlic patch
I crawl through the corn, like a child
mountain painted stalks hiding me from the
summer sunshine
as I wander one row along
feeling slightly older
last week I graduated Kindergarten...I milked a cow
on my own
Emily Sandall grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and just received an elementary education degree at the University of Montana. One of Sandall's greatest passions is issues concerning street and working children, and she hopes to use literature as a means to communicate the connection between the lives of the children and choices of comfort we make here in the United States. Sandall loves to write, explore the outdoors, run, dance, and work towards a more just and sustainable world. She wrote this poem in August, while working at three separate organic farms in Dixon, a small town in Northwest Montana.
�2004 Talking Leaves
Winter 2004/2005
Volume 14, Number 4
Transformation: Endings and Beginnings
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