And Then....

Yellowed and withered
Quietly died the lily
Sadly mourned by spring

She walked amid the ruins. Her ruins. Tiptoed through scattered strength. Ran past hope... fearing its truth. She clung to doubt, hiding in the shadows of herself. And she grieved... lived her sorrow. Wept her tears. Spilled her anger upon the unsuspecting, the undeserving. And then...

Watered by sadness
Tomorrows laid still, fallow,
In uncertain soil

Time, fickle foe and fast friend, kept close... as much as it kept distant. Offering not its sweet escape nor promising unrelenting pain. Time knew what she did not, could not,  see. She would grow and understand that sorrow would not ever truly leave.  It would instead become like a dusty fingerprint on a mirror, accepted for what it was... knowing it would return from time to time. And she would too accept the loss and the ruins, gathering them to her. Yes, she would still grieve but she would heal. And then....

In another spring
Petals of ivory faith
Breathe a memory


© mdbadgerow 2009