I have complained
About bonds and chains —
But always,
I was lost in ether.

And so, my bones chose
That the lip service paid
To the search for roots
Both physical and non
Deserved a lesson
In what it meant
To be severed
And truly bound.

The obliteration of all
But pain,
And waiting for,
And staving off,
And locating,
And enduring,
And placating.

Through it all,
His song cut —
That cardinal on the branch
Outside the window
That hid my weeping.

Always before
I had longed for winter dreaming
Until I became a statue —
And stoic I watched
As the floodwaters
Of the changes we could no longer stop
Rose up
And eroded my foundations.

A fox,
Ragged in his end-of-winter coat,
Suffering unseen injury,
Stops there.
Wounded and wary,
Timid, hurt,
We face off on the trail.
And who will be first
To turn tail
And disappear in the fog?

These unanswered questions,
We must remember.
As we leap the season,
Hold onto these
Hard lessons.
And don’t forget
The time has come.
The time is always coming.
Make it manifest.
And don’t forget.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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