The Lifelands

Leaves brown and mushy fill the grass. Summer’s work is done. And I know now I will never go back. To the deadlands of the ‘normal’ world, which is anything but. Humans in concrete cages, sucking up drudge hour after hour. The rising tide of boredom. The desperation to fill the void scratching so deeply at souls, they willingly plug themselves into an app to avoid it.


Sometimes it’s wild up here in the mountains. Storms ride in and out like highway men holding my stone huts to ransom. There’s no financial certainty in nature. No power or hot water. Wood must be found and cut. I am rarely sitting. But I will never go back to your urban morgues of convenience. Because I’m a woman of the dirt. I drink the stars at night and create worlds by day. I’m alive.