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.
Becoming The Muse 
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