Places left unmarked

I wave my hands to the ground and feel my palms tickle. All I see around me is a bunch of green straw. I sit there and feel an excitement, almost a shock course through me. I squeal. I realized I’m happy. I feel welcomed into this land of green, accepted by its essence. I sit in silence, my legs lay in front of me apart from each other. I like sitting like this, although I always have this invisible man who appears and beats me between my legs, his face close to mine, his breath getting faster and faster as the hitting gets harsher. I keep my legs open. The grass beneath me is not like the grass around me. It’s beaten, mush. All so I can look at some of the grass in my view. If only I could fly like that sparrow to see the meadow's entirety, leaving everything untouched. I could’ve looked at the grass beneath me. They seemed just as good a patch. But no I just had to sit here and look at the grass in front of me. My palms stopped to wave and placed themselves on the earth feeling the grass up close. Like wet soggy straw, though it hasn't rained. I grasp the grass as tight as I can and almost rip them out. The skies that were once a beautiful happy blue were now filled with gloomy clouds that filled themselves with rain, like a set of Russian dolls. Although a member of the doll set slipped as a droplet of water fell on my hand, breaking the once perfect harmony. My hands are still grasping the grass that was now hot and messy in my palms. It then started to poor, falling heavily from what seemed to be never ending faucets of cold icy water. The drops weighing on each individual strand of the earths luscious hair, nearly burying them in the ground. I let go of the grass keeping my palms warm, developing a layer of sweat, that now suddenly caught a rush of air. I got up and walked a few steps to leave the vast plain...When I turned one last time to see where I once sat.

I felt a tear in my eye when I realized,

I couldn’t tell.