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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 01, 2018

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Submitted: August 01, 2018



The shovel starts to break the earth at my feet.

The aroma hugs the frigid air around my face like an old friend.

I have been here before.

Pushing the shovel deeper still,

I lift the dirt away,

And toss it carelessly behind me.

I hear it protest against the already settled ground.

And I realize this is the ode to my childhood.

The letter of goodbyes to my self-loathing.

I use every muscle I can muster to lift this dirt from my feet

And unplant myself.

Uproot the idea that I am nothing but a waste of time.

As the hole grows deeper,

I rip the negativity from my mind like weeds from a garden,

Because that’s exactly what I am.

A garden of goodwill and gratitude.

I dig faster, to the pace of my own heartbeat.

This is the swan song for my insecurities.

May they rest in peace and never rise.

May I bury and cover them here with the seeds needed to start fully living.

And as I pack the dirt in tight over every skeleton I used to see,

Looking back at me from the mirror,

I realize,

I will be here again.

And isn’t that beautiful?

To shed hate from myself like leaves in Autumn.

To foster budding appreciation like flowers in Spring.

So I lean the shovel against my chest,

And thank myself for the visit.

I will never say goodbye to this place.

I will never say goodbye to the chance to grow anew.

So I take one last sharp inhale of frigid air,

And I say,

See you soon.


© Copyright 2019 Victoria Monroe. All rights reserved.

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