Roots That Won’t Loosen

The soil clings to stubborn brown,

a grip like old regrets,

tugged tight beneath the surface,

refusing release,

like memories pressed to cracked skin.

I pull with every ounce,

feel the root resist—twisted, knotted,

pulling at my fingers,

as dirt crumbles, unsettled,

a stubborn hold on what should be gone.

In that final snap,

dust settles on my palm,

a fragile truce between letting go

and holding tight to the earth

beneath my restless hands.