The Plant



Photograph by Greer Oharah


I used to live underground. Disconnected from sunlight like a used up pre-paid cell phone. I tried to call out, but no one could hear me. I panicked. I stretched. I clawed my way out. When there was rain, I was pushed back. When there were beasts, I protested. When I sprouted, I kissed the sun. Forever warming to her love that I needed so badly and yet couldn’t help resent, I flooded her with questions.

“Where have you been?” I gasped. “You couldn’t find me in my darkest corner.”

“I always knew where you were,” the sun said. “I just couldn’t get to you.”

“But why?”

“Because,” said the sun. “You had to come to me.”

14 thoughts on “The Plant

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