Gardening On Grief

by Jenny L Hodgins

Jagged edge
Piercing me
Gnawing ever
Constantly
Like a thorny spike
Jabbing me
Spiral falling
Downwardly
Even sunny days
Feel cloudy gray

Snowball rolling
With gravity
Growing larger
And heavy
Feel my baggage
Weigh me down
In the deep end
Spinning around
Painful silence
Inner violence

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I dig in the dirt
Neurotically and
Relentlessly
To bury the hurt
Or find the cure
Of which I’m unsure
But weeds everywhere
Get stripped from earth
And in their place
Some new birth
Is laboriously sown
With careful mix of
Nurtured soil
On and on
and on I toil.

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From the muck of
My own suffering
The grunt work
Of my heart aching
Begins the layered tapestry
Of today and yesterday
Rising from beneath
The mix of soil, water, seed;

A tiny stem, a green stalk,
Shoots that climb from oblivion
into my world—I sweet talk them
with praise and adoration
as they extend formation
into blossoms of burgundy,
orange, blue, whatever color, markedly
beautiful, tender, energetic, strong

rose

In all their diversity, a glorious song
That sings to me, in quietness,
a message all nature senses;
Despite the storms, clouds and cold,
Life will find a way to breath again–
Even in death there is no end.

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