I move dirt around trying to cover my mistakes. There's never enough. 
Yet I dig! 
Persistent! My feet planted deeper and deeper 
until my sole surrounding: soil. 
Slowly eroding, exposing my errors once again. 
I can't rise above them unless I stack them; stepping stones of blunder. 
This, my only path for escape, displaying deviations 
and scars from my detours. 
Climbing though, my focus can alter from what I leave 
below me to the threads of hope that greet me in the open air. 
This unfurls only after acknowledgement. 
Only after anger is abandoned. 
Only after regret rest in the residue of the treads I leave behind me. 
Not hidden, but absorbed into the dirt.


B. Toner September 2024