It
is Friday the 13th, which I tried to write a poem about and couldn’t.
I wrote a bad poem about medieval superstitions trying to tie it together and
then erased that too. My brain is too tired. A friend complained that her
veggie starts hadn’t come up yet and that somehow did inspire me to write a
poem tonight! HA! Well, it is about that and….
Little
green sing to me
Sooth
my ache from wet cold
Muddy
feet and fair refusal
That
arrests my sense of moving forward
To
linking hard to those underground
Not
around to hear the hard hurt
Scarred
in my chest
Carved
a letter
“A”
for ashamed, around, arrested, and arrogant,
I
plant seeds keeping moist
Hoping
to see shoots
That
come from not “A”
But
the rest of the alphabet
Pushing
up through with deep grasping roots
Which
hang on,
seeking
needed nutrients
Sucking
up hydroponic power
To
point towards the source of light
And
find new ways to survive
Cleaning
the air
Curing
the surface
Coming
together
Culling
the pain
Clearing
the stain
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