Buried

First Published in the Vita Brevis Literature

As I trample the earth under my feet

casually walking in the misty garden

soaked and drenched in the smell of the recent rains

that smell of petrichor

unearths,

unburies the consciousness of the earth

the memories come rolling by

of that warm summer evening

air is heavy and laced with those forgotten days

and I can feel the taste

on the tip of my tongue

balancing it precariously

I jewel not to be lost or forgotten

memories do have a flavorful taste

a taste to rekindle

to revisit,

as it sits at the back of your throat

that metallic taste of sadness

that peachy taste of longing

my tearing eyes fill the emptiness

left by them

as I walk

alone in my garden

gently trampling

the earth under my feet

unearthing the consciousness and more.

–Megha

Photo by Drew Coffman on Unsplash