Tuesday, May 24, 2011


I've been blanketed in the dark, heavy days of winters
trying to recreate what's been lost--
and taken away.

But there are still
two tiny sparks I'm holding onto
in the most desperate manner.

My fingers entangle themselves in this
wet, soft, moist soil of hope--
clinging and grasping for the steady
strength of home.

Spring now lays itself at my feet
in a kaleidoscope of possibilities
as I emerge anew from this shell.

1 comment:

  1. I have just now read your post and you expressed your feelings so very well. I was both sad and glad as I followed your thougts and I remembered a poem I wrote after my husband's death when I was groping for what was missing. I never found it but now Spring IS here!