Digging.

i have spent the year

chipping

chipping

chipping

away at all the little bits of myself

my days stand amidst gales

to be blown and scattered as dust

my hours scrounge through the rubble 

searching for anything left that might be me, that could be me

always certain the next stone and the next and the next will uncover the most important piece

but there is always something more important

and there is always more to find.

for all the stones and all the dust and all the rubble

…

there is still more of me being dug out of the dirt than i remember losing track of.