Spirals An uprising. Kindergarten? First grade? A teacher’s hand slides over mine. “No, you must color the apple from the inside out. In circles. In spirals. Like this.” She guides my hand, and when I look up stones live in her eyes. I color in straight lines. Vertical. Horizontal. Diagonal. Bending a line feels like submission. Fourth grade. Creative Movement. I become a blade of grass growing from Earth, rising to the sun for golden kisses. Points of light gather. Spread across the field. Glow goodness outward. I spiral in straight lines. |