I break the ground with my hands.

Digging deeper, I smell the secret sacred place the Earth keeps hidden.

I pause to dump a pile of dirt in my hair, running my fingers from top to bottom and smearing my face to make a protective mask.

I dig until the hole is big enough to hold my body.

I crawl in and bury myself.

The tears come.

Watering the soil around me, I feel safe inside the womb of my Mother.

I feel the vibration of life. 

Supported by her roots, I cry until I fall asleep.

I wake in the morning, emerging from my hiding place, renewed.

I kneel, fill the hole, kiss the ground, and whisper prayers of thanks.

I am hopeful, as time passes, flowers will grow from the pain I left within the Earth.

Blooming as proof that we survive even the worst pain.