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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 3665 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Recovery Kathy Paupore This is the spring she waits for the flowers to bloom, keeps small inspirations in a book, and plants burgeoned annuals. She takes nothing for granted, not even the day, and counts only in hours. She watches chipmunks steal sweet pea seeds from careful dirt rows. Her child numbers twenty months of life, is finally able to stand, pale seedling in the struggle for growth. She wishes the sunshine would heal them both, reminds herself to enjoy the small buds, learns again how to laugh, Black flies come and then mosquitoes after small tubes of their blood, red spills from the cup of a tulip when hope is most blue. She marks her child's journey with silent tears, pressed petals among journal pages. She prunes rose bushes, is scratched by thorns, and tries not to fret about her child's first step while she cradles her in grieving arms. She buries despair in deep soil under the bleeding hearts, weeds worries and casts spent seeds from her palm's hollow to disperse with the down of dandelions. |
