Buried

We can try to leave it under all the
  earth and past and scars
It begins to stink though and something
  comes in dragging off a bone
Opening all up to the hurt and grief
  we can talk, we can listen
To the voice inside which has questions
  even when it doesn't make
Any sense, we can heal, which is the power
  in our speaking, no it is never
The same our scar is still there, it is not
  festering though and becoming
Bitter turning us away from all which
  might help us, might hold us
Do not be afraid, walk into it knowing
  the tears are healing rain