Born above ground mid-morning in sunlight too bright for my eyes,

I cower inside my mother’s embrace.

She assures me I too will one day grow, one day glow.

But as I ripen, my branches reach in the wrong direction.

My feet dig into the earth.

I feel the tangle of roots creep up my calves tightening, tugging, pulling.

One toe, two, my entire foot engulfed, swallowed yanked beneath the soil.

My mother reaches for me with long sinewy arms,

her morning glory hair feathery over her sculpted shoulders.

Her gaze focuses on me, my eyes swim with un-spilled oceans.

I descend ever deeper into the mire, grasping frantically at her tendril fingers.

Above my knees the dirt accumulates, I continue to sink until only my face is visible.

“Go,” mother’s words float on a breeze.

Dust plugs my nostrils, fills my mouth, I bite down on the grit.

This is where I end.

“Goodbye, Mother,” my heart whispers to her.

Inside the earth’s firm grip, to my disbelief, I find comfort.

My fear dissipates.

Warmth radiates every corpuscle.

I curl into myself,

And I sleep.

Until the earth tenderly nudges awake.

I yawn, stretch, push upward.

One finger, two fingers, my entire hand surges above ground.

My head breaks the surface.

I inhale deeply, exhale fully.

Upon opening my eyes, I witness the array of colors

above me, around me, below me.

I realize they are me.

I have found my shine.