Fingertips

Location

91710
United States
34° 0' 43.2828" N, 117° 40' 43.266" W

Mi abuelita is ripping apart carnitas with her fingertips
Through my squinty eyes I am sifting through the lavish, glamorous sky
I want to speak Spanish to her but I always forget
To practice because I am fighting against this sea too quickly
But before I get too far
She says, “Mia, remember your roots”

You can see the true brunette hair poking through the auburn of my wavy, dancing roots
And the dryness of my inner-being, face, skin, fingertips
Pushes me to seek far
For a bottle, compact, veil the same color of the sky
And because I am running through these vague notions too quickly
Found in those books, channels, magazines, and faces I forget

That hardly matters, what matters is my heart’s condition, sometimes I forget
The lyrics to The Temptations’ “My Girl” but remember that Van Halen’s “Running with the Devil” is dug into my roots
I am leaping over these mountains too quickly
But I can’t escape the rings on my fingertips
And the way sky-blue pink makes me miss, oh the sky
Only mapquest says Los Angeles is too far

Sometimes, the majestic adventure sounds so far
And I forget
The vastly divine, acrylic canvas-ness of the sky
Is being painted and the truth that like all living things, a glorious tree begins growing at its roots
So I’m choosing to be okay with the callouses forming on my guitar kissing fingertips
I can’t keep fast-forwarding this tape so quickly

I can’t keep fast-forwarding this tape so quickly
When I do, I just feel like a rust colored wagon full of regret not being pushed far
Enough and so crippling nervous that I bite my sore fingertips
And struggle and forget
Grace is pumping into my veins and binding my roots
I know this redemption that is wider, higher, deeper than the sky

I know this redemption that is wider, higher, deeper than the sky
And it prevents myself from drawing my sword so quickly
Because that will only cut through my roots
Let me go ahead and take a risk and say what I see near and far
Kick off the graffiti-ed converse tennis and forget
To number the worries on my fingertips

Because the kindness of the sky isn’t that far
Let my lips whisper “thank you” more quickly than I forget
To hold onto my roots and stretch my fingertips
Upward, outward, and onward

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