This grassy blackness feels fibrous under the fingers.
It reaks of old things, but now the perspective sees fertile soil.
I wish and wonder while my fingers wander into this ground.
This is a draft.
I am a first round.
Maybe a second or even a third.
Who knows?
But the darkness feels good.
Before it felt lonely.
The darkness doesn’t feel silent.
Now, it feels ready.
I’m coming alive in the death I thought had claimed me.
This wasn’t even a death.
This was more a getting over myself.
I can give more.
But it won’t look the same.
I can ask for more.
I understand the value of my value.
I can push and shove because I understand a tiny bit more of my weaponry.
Holding my voice sacred.
Not taking it for granted.
It looks a lot more like quiet.
I’m feeling a new height in this deep.
And this unburying earth feels like I still have potential.
I wonder what that will realize if I just till the soil?
Seeing in the Dark
