The Earth Was the Only One Who Held Me

I laid down in the field because I didn’t know what else to do.
There were no arms, no words, no exits.
So I let the earth have me.
Not in some poetic metaphor—
I mean I tried to leave.

But she held me.
The grass didn’t recoil.
The sky didn’t shame me.
The wind curled around my ribcage like a lullaby I forgot how to ask for.

And I lived.
Not because I wanted to.
Because something old and rooted said:
“Not yet.”