deepundergroundpoetry.com

Petrichlor

the days are suddenly    
warmer now;      
rain soaks the fields      
of life germinating in rows ~      
it smells of every summer I spent      
in backwoods Georgia,      
tending my grandmother’s      
butter beans and sweet peas,      
gaining self-sufficiency      
and old southern wisdom      
under the guise of hard work      
and soft lessons;      
I suspect she knew all along      
there was pride in every blister      
earned at her side      
     
she is gone away      
from these moments now,      
but the ache she left      
never seems to follow suit;      
she’d know just what to do      
to collect my scattered mind;      
with grace for my shortcomings      
and confidence in her purpose,        
she’d busy her hands in service      
 ~ as was always her way      
     
gathering the cups and plates      
left by my overindulgent escapes,      
she’d fold and put away the blankets      
I’ve been hiding under,      
cocooned with my vulnerabilities;      
strong arms would spring open      
curtains shut against the light      
in fearful denial, flooding      
the dark corners of my truth      
with her warmth and balance;      
she’d tell me the rain      
has come to wash away the past      
so that I can begin again,      
as my whole self ~      
and I would believe her      
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Published
Author's Note
NaPo 2021 9/30 132 unique words
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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