Like paws pressing and flicking
dirt over my shoulder,
I have relentlessly unraveled the
tapestry of my upbringing inch by inch
to find the kernel of my true self,
what I hope survived
my parents’ shame.

Maybe the “I” I was before my parents got to me
is like a bobby pin on the playground—
logic says it should be there,
but recess ends while the mulch is endless.

For many years my purpose was to dig
away the harm and shame
from my past—
but the earth’s crust ranges from
3.1 to 43.5 miles in depth.
I will not finish digging in this lifetime
and I want to do something else.

I didn’t find the kernel I was hoping for.
Instead, I have a big hole
and the gaping void unsettles me.
For now, I will look for something new to plant
and wait for something else to grow.