Digging a Hole

Digging a Hole

I dig a hole in the quiet earth,

feeling the weight of every lifted handful,

and the soil tells stories older than mine,

soft murmurs rising through my hands.

The ground gives way with patient grace,

letting me carve a space for release,

and I breathe deeply as I continue,

knowing some burdens must be laid to rest.

When the hole is wide enough for truth,

I place my old sorrow gently inside,

and as I cover it with steady care,

I feel something lighter rise within.

The earth settles as if it understands,

holding my grief with gentle strength,

and I stand with a calmer heart,

knowing I have laid the past to sleep.

In the stillness that follows the final step,

I turn toward the path ahead of me,

and I walk with a renewed intention,

leaving the weight of yesterday behind.