I, I am latent, I am dreamed,
I am unearthed.
I lie here fallow, waiting.
For the opening, the permission
The cord to cling to that will
Pull me forth.
What do I need to be born?
I need open, open, open and out
Into the sunlight.
Say yes to me.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “unearthed.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “Unearthed”

  1. I sit and wait patiently for the police investigators to find me. A cruel and horrific wait for the one remaining. She wants revenge. She needs answers. She will not rest until justice is served. When I am unearthed, I will show them everything. Yes, on my steel blade is the blood of the victim. On my wooden handle, I carry the assassins fingerprints. Come, come find me…..

  2. One fine day as she stood under a tree, by innocuous chance a leaf caressed her cheek as it fell.In its teensiness and ordinariness, lay the key that unearthed her past. Laid bare momentous happenings, blew a whiff of fresh air into long sealed vaults of despair. As tears coursed down her cheeks, burning them with shame, guilt and remorse, she wiped them and resolved to tell it all. Bare her soul to the world, offering herself up for judgement,rendering herself vulnerable to history and histrionics.She had exposed the truth.

  3. Sofia walked around the empty house making sure she wasn’t leaving behind anything of importance. She headed to the kitchen and looked out the window to the patio. There in its full splendor was her miniature yellow rose plant. Her heart shriveled. She knew she couldn’t leave it behind.

    She found herself on her knees removing some of the dead leaves surrounding the plant before she took the shovel and carefully unearthed it. Sofia looked forward to replanting it in its new spot in her new home hoping that it would survive the move and the winter which was soon to arrive.

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