What We Bury

In the garden, I dig, dirt caked under nails,

remnants of arguments, unspoken details.

My neighbor’s harsh words linger, heavy and raw,

as I unearth the reasons we each have a flaw.

A small patch of earth, cracked and dry,

reminds me of burdens too heavy to try.

In the fistful of dirt, the truth often lies,

delving deep in the silence, where the past never dies.