And I Was Soil

The shovel came searing into my middle,
the human was taking a part of me and
tossing me to the other side of myself.
The big gloved hand came down inside my crevice
and inserted a seed,
I felt its' fullness as it nestled itself into my pores.
With the shovel, the human took some of me,
and filled up my seeded basin,
patting me firmly,
nestling the seed further into my separate, but connected particles.
Then the water came, I felt it seeping through my spaces.
like little rivers and streams...tendrils
infusing, diffusing throughout my morsels of undiluted skin and viscera.
I held the seed for many days, with all of my earthy self,
and with each passing day I felt
the wiggling , the creation making,
muscling its way, to and fro...the growing pains of my seed companion.
As time passed, the morsel of seed grew arms
and outstretched amidst my tissue, creating tunnels
to take themselves to the light that sometimes baked me.
Then one day, a very auspicious day,
early in the morning, as I recall,
I felt the seed pushing
its way up and out of me.
Almost immediately, I could see---
beyond myself, into the light,
into the world that lived above me.
I swelled with love and gratitude.
We were insperable partners, the seed and I.
No one could tell us apart, not I, not the seed, not the worms
that slithered in and around us, not even the humans
who gazed upon us and nurtured us.