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Fresh Soil

When we’ve outgrown the pots we’re in,

our nutrients lacking,

for the soil has thinned,

Transplanting -

to send ourselves packing,

isn’t an easy course of action.

This space we’ve grown accustomed to,

this space we’ve called home,

isn’t an easy goodbye to accept.

Those who have watered you here,

the sunlight you’ve received through the years,

you’ve grown to love.

But we really can’t deny,

it might be time to move on.

To a new space of growth.

Where we could be more.

This is what draws us,

what intrigues us to leave what is comfortable.

Because is it really comfortable?

Is there not an itch for new space to sprout and to spread?

How long can we deny,

no, it’s not what we’ve known,

but we have been shown,

when your pot is too small,

your leaves may start to fall,

your stem not stand so tall.

To transplant is to leave, yes –

to leave a depleted space of growth for a fresh one.

But also to leave a part of you ever in this place,

for this is where certain roots will ever be interlaced.

It’s bittersweet,

but bitterness of loss you should not fear,

for a part of your sweet story,

will always be here.


I write this inspired by those in my life, myself included, who have an itch for more than their current positions and relations, but fear admitting they truly want to pursue the “more.” Because pursuing the “more” means leaving certain love. Certain comfortably.

But it's tainted comfortably. For as they sit in this broken-in sofa, they no longer seem able to get comfortable. It’s been worn past comfortability. While the sofa will stay where it is, they have the choice of staying there too, ever trying to get comfortable again - or they can get up. Stretch their legs. Transplanting themselves to a fresh place, maybe it’s familiar, maybe it’s foreign, but it’s a space of potential. A potential of more. And oh, what a fun discovery of what this “more” might entail.

1 Comment

May 30, 2023


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