I enjoy planting myself in full sun.
I drink it,
In remembrance of photosynthesis and Ra.
Scientist-priests of our culture and commercials warn against it.
They want me to wear a burkah of sunscreen or clothes when outdoors.
Every plant has its end.
With time, even perennials stop blooming and finally crumble and dry,
Returning to the elements.
Pagan, I would rather soak in
that sunlight
that cool moonlight
that rain, even hearing thunder
Than die by their chemicals and fearful words,
An empty ghost,
trying to buy a wrinkle-free, eternal body,
substituting consuming for a life and death in nature.
by Terra Rafael
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