I tried burying myself in the garden this morning. I was hoping to teach my body what it feels like to be nurtured, protected and loved. But, instead of surrendering, it raged against the earth; toiling, writhing, massacring everything in its path. In the end there was only a bed of dying roses and myself wallowing inches beneath the surface of life. Even peace will feel like war if you are not used to it. Mastering yourself doesn't mean conquering your demons, it means acknowledging, accepting and loving them. It means knowing that it still takes every broken piece of you to be whole - that no page of your story is worth skipping, that you are the habitable zone in the midst of the universe. I do not know why such fear is gardened into our minds about God. Frankly, I do not know a lot of things. And the more I dance with my thoughts, the more I trip over my own feet. I know nothing. ​But this I do know: the day I die is somewhere out there prepping, waiting, counting on my arrival. As I sit in this room, at this table, with the wind begging for my attention, and the sun dying across the evening sky - I will remain a calamity scattered across every pore of my body, slowly slipping into non-existence one breath at a time. And that is beauty, that is peace: to be present, despite the unbecoming of it all. Model @anika__50 Technical Assistant @islandboiphotography #jamaicanphotographer #poetryislife #poetrylovers #poetsofig #writerslife