The Dig.....

She began digging, carefully scrutinizing each individual piece that she uncovered. The ground was heavy, not wanting to give up it's hidden shards easily. Some of the unearthed clods revealed similar shapes of injustices that had been buried long ago. Other pieces were unique with contorted shapes that twisted around and around.

"You might as well give up!" said the ones who couldn't have cared less. "Those shards don't have any value so why dig up the past?"

She looked directly at the naysayers and replied, "I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night. If not me, then who, will restore honour to these dear souls who endured so much? Their stories need to be told."

The uninterested walked away, muttering that empathy was so overrated.

Her tears flowed, loosening the hard ground.....

A dverse poets prompt to write a prosery of no more than 144 words, not including the title. Today the given line is 'I dress in their stories patterned and purple as night', taken from Kimberly Blaeser's poem 'When We Sing of Might.'

Here is the link: Prosery

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