Dark

Sometimes, darkness envelops me like a thick blanket, a crushing weight

I cannot see anymore —

I feel like the seed trying to break through the earth and reach for the sun and the sky.

But the clay is heavy —my forever burial

Dare I give birth to myself?

Gestation in the underbelly —

Quietly desperate to stretch and crack and reach for the light

Longing for the rain to melt the soil so that I can burst open and grow into a tree —

I want to become a home for the songbirds

And celebrate the cycle of becoming.