Good Earth

He told me about the way you died. I’ve pictured it all these years: he said he was five, but my math says ten, when he saw his mother (your daughter) run from the back door of the Pleasant View house in sobs that would make the Earth tear apart at her seams, screams like lightning from within a moment of silence. Good Earth, you called the orchard, when you slipped underneath the tractor tire, pinned against the ground, and the following events transpired: 1) You turned off the tractor with a stick (the fumes choking, dangerous) 2) You remembered that the tire was filled with water, an ocean that pressed down on your midsection with a force you had never known 3) And so you, in a moment of relief, pierced the tire and released a waterfall of comfort (you assumed) until the metallic edge of the rim met your rib cage 4) You said a prayer (this is not in our family records but I do not need a record to know that you were alone but something Holy was there) 5) They found you with Good Earth underneath your nails, as begging turned to digging. I imagine your baritone voice in the wind: tell me, what song did you sing?

Jonny Shae Ransbottom is the author of several essays and poems, including “Swim,” published by Minerva Rising’s “The Keeping Room.” She enjoys writing all genres and finds herself drawn to the raw and real stories of love and hardship, particularly those that speak to the feminine experience. As an educator, she believes in the passion of writing as a tool for connection and healing. She received her MFA in Creative Writing from Lindenwood University in 2023 and continues to write diverse works of poetry, fiction, and lyrical nonfiction.

A Song for Jonny