Sounds of an Unearthed Mother

In the forest, deep roots whisper secrets, they know she was here once beneath soil, pressure, time—no, not time, something deeper, like the heartbeat of the core itself... diamond created in silence, no, in whispers... something enchanted in the way the light bends to touch her, to recognize her, mother not made but found, unearthed... riddle wrapped in the twinkle of morning dew, baby’s laughter echoing... where does life begin? in the ground or the womb? or somewhere else—beyond the seen and the known? She rises, light refracting, splintering into colors we can’t image... hands reaching, mine or hers? baby's breath or wind through the leaves? Birth is a question we never answer, only feel... diamonds born of ground and flesh and magic... a riddle unsolved because it is fearfully and wonderfully made. It was never meant to be answered, just lived... the forest sighs, the ground hums, and somewhere a child speaks in riddles.