Don’t be reserved.
Dig in.
Wrap a tiny embryo of thought or feeling in words
Or paint
Or sketches
Or collage.
Coat it with abstraction.
Don’t be afraid to cake your nails in dirt
Or let water run down your cheeks
Or to hold the heaviness and delicacy in your palm.
Plant it.
Move it out into the light.
Inhale. Exhale.
Wait.
You do not need a rake or a shovel or a trowel
Or a wheelbarrow or shears.
Let it flow through your fingertips.
For there is no pain
or awkwardness
or beauty
Or love
Or hope
Or thought
That can’t take root and grow lush.