I lay back and run my fingers over my skin,
tiny travelers roaming over hills and plains,
ridges and crevices.
There are cracks and tears, the scars upon this terrain shall not heal.
They are the reminders and the tale tellers,
reciting stories of battles lost and loves won.
Will these blemishes deter the common traveler,
proving to be too complex for their
short-lived trail making?
Or is there a hidden beauty to these detours,
a mystery that attracts the adventurous and the brave?
Is it any less than other pathways?
Perhaps it has a hint of wildness to it,
a bit more tree roots to stumble upon
and branches to push back...
I turn over and wrap my arms around myself.
This is my land, with many stories and many battles lost.
Tread carefully, dear traveler.