Beneath the soil, Nuwar peeks out between dry grains of sand, her roots tangled around a single dry grain. Above her, layers of cold clay; below her, a darkness that warms with its fingers. She lowered her stem and looked into the dark. She thought to herself, "Here at last… my hiding places."
Suddenly, the rain tapped the surface. Tap, tap, tap. Nuwar trembled, and her roots curled deeper into the wet darkness. Each tap pushed her one step toward the black clay, so she pressed herself into the deepest, coldest spot.
Every droplet struck the soil and landed on her leaves like a cold needle. She tried to pull her roots up, even just an inch, but the sinking pulled her down to anchor. She bounced back lower and cried silently in the dark clay pit. No sound, no light — only the weight of water.
She tried again. Root, root, root — pulling. No movement; the water is heavier, the clay colder, and her stem trembles between the grains. She thought, "I can't climb up." And sank deeper.
At the bottom of the pit, no tears can be seen in the dark. Her stem sways weightless, and water gathers around her roots like a hand pulling everything to the bottom. Alone, in the darkness — no sound, no movement.
Then… silence. The rain stopped, and beneath the soil everything was still: dry grains of sand, quiet clay, and a darkness that does not breathe. No tapping, no new cracks, just a thick hush, like a layer of wax over everything.
One dewdrop — golden, warm, glowing like a tiny candle. It fell on the tip of Nuwar's root, and the root jerked and stretched upward, higher and higher, until the soil above her head split with thin cracks. She thought, "What?" and peered through the crack toward the faraway light.
One root through the last crack — and suddenly, the light burst open. A wide blue sky, green meadows stretching to the horizon, and golden rays pouring over her leaves like warm honey. Her roots grip the soft soil while her stem stands in the open for the very first time.
"This isn't dark!" Her little eyes swept across the meadow, and she smiled a wide smile, like a flower in full bloom. The golden rays made her leaves shimmer, as if she were holding a little sun in her hands. The wind blew through, and the air filled with the sweet smell of wet earth.
Nuwar stood in the middle of the meadow, her roots in the soft soil, her stem steady, set for good. A little sun gleamed on her leaves, and the silence was gentle. She thought softly, "I'll stay here… under the sun."
