Grains of Memory

Fingers claw through soil, a grave I unearth,

each clump a reminder of what I must bury,

in the grit of the past lies a story of worth,

a fistful of dirt, with secrets to carry.

What grows from this earth holds more than mere roots,

a tangle of hope, and the ghosts of my fears,

tender petals pushed through like untold pursuits,

as I sift through the remnants of laughter and tears.

The memories cling like earth under nails,

a reminder that life’s but a cycle of dust,

what once felt like mountains can shift into trails,

each handful a lesson in learning to trust.