They say I am a child of the soil,
from the soil I was birthed,
I toil till my death,
digging my grave on this earth,
I feel soiled with this dirt
no matter how many times I wash,
rinse and repeat.
From the dirt I was born,
this dirt I call home,
is where we all come from.
When I dig my roots in this dirt,
they tell me to stop playing in the mud,
I made my bed in this earth,
and the world buried me with this dirt.
If my ancestors were of this soil,
then I am soiled with this soil,
and to this soil I will return,
till and toil on this soil,
until its my turn,
to bloom where I am planted,
in this soil I call home.