Loam
This is the story of a little girl
whose name was always misremembered
But we won't explore that today
Her name was probably the least interesting thing about her-
“My parents never liked the dirt.
They said it was too filthy for us city folks to touch
But I loved the dirt
It had grains, textures, secrets and a whole ecosystem within it
But my mum loathed the loam
Said it wasn't for us
I saw the dirt as a refuge
A sanctuary for the ones we abandoned
Maybe that's why I loved the dirt
It had a place for the problems we couldn't solve,
burdens we couldn't bear,
fractures we couldn't heal,
sins we couldn't absolve,
mistakes we couldn't undo,
sorrows we couldn't soothe,
ruins we couldn't restore,
the magic we couldn't decipher,
And the deformities we couldn't forsake
I loved digging too
Just like the crypt I've been digging for myself since I was 6
I never jumped in,I just dug it deeper
The dirt never complained
As I punctured a spot for myself in its heart
Maybe that's why I loved the dirt
For letting me carve into its core
Or maybe I loved it for something completely different
I guess we'll never know.”
Now the little girl lies
In a completely different grave
For hers was way too deep
Deeper than 6 feet
As she lies 6 feet under
In the dirt she once loved
Now,Her mother doesn't loathe the loam
The dirt suddenly isn't filthy anymore.
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