as she sits
her thoughts exploding
one
after
another
some + others -
she thinks:
maybe if I dig deeper people won't question, "are you ok?"

Can't remember last time
I knelt down to dig in the dirt
but I do recall all us boys who'd climb
the sandy loam pile in the yard

to make castles, caves and highways
and let our fantasies reign -
oh what glorious days
when fun was simple and plain.

We cared not about smudges
holey pants or muddy feet
had not learned about grudges
nor become expert in deceit

hadn’t yet been betrayed
enough to live in hurt
and conjure all the ways
we could spite and spread dirt.

Maybe every now and again
I'd benefit from kneeling down
and digging deeper grain by grain
in earthy dirt - to find my being’s ground.

They say three can keep a secret, if two of them are dead

Secrets could be simple, if they weren't the type worth being spread

You can bury secrets, I'm sure you're shocked to hear it's true.

But dont dream you'll finish digging, until they first have buried you.

.Digging for my roots,
Through fragrant soil,
Rocks scrape my wrists,
Moving deeper,
Entangled in the maze,
Rich with the past,
My ancestors are lost in the dirt,
Their names forgotten, but they are there in my DNA,
Marking me with their gifts, their trauma, their choices,
I am not one,
I am many.

11/2017 by Leah Oviedo @ ImpowerYou.org

Go someplace, anyplace outdoors.
Dig, dig into the ground until you find something.
Something pure and true, covered in rust,
As antique as the day you were born.
Feel it, turn it in your palms.
Inspect it.
Discover all its little secrets and remember
Remember the past life, the one this came from,
Rejoice in the happy memories as well as the sorrowful.
But don't forget
Find, Rust, and Remember.