Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Love for the Land
I love you for what you are and what you're not. I love your past, present, and future. I love you for what you've given to me and taken from me against my will. I love you when you're warm and welcoming and when you make it seem like you'll spit me out and send me back to where I came from. I love you when you're green and flourishing or crimson and bleeding. I love your ancient cobble stones and your newly paved roads. I love you for being loud but horrifyingly silent as the siren blares through your veins. You need me, but not as much as I need you. I love you for your resilience despite the undying commitment to break you down. I love you because even when I want to give up on you, I don't know how to.