It is the greatest shame
that we become buried only by ourselves
our own fear
our own doubt and questions
it is our own shovel that takes us down.
where have you gone my love
up up to the attic
off, off far away
you've covered the windows
so you wouldn't know the time.
I will come looking for you, always.
I will dig, even if only with my hands
I will uncover you from the soil
I will lay with you in the earth
I will, when you are ready, take your hands and help you rise.