Thursday, May 14, 2015

After a Miscarriage


When spring came I came alive again.
The air was finally gentle
and I breathed deeply of sweet

lilac and hyacinth and some faint
scent I couldn’t find or name.
It wafted through the house

like light, forgotten in our long
winter of darkness. The plums
and cherry trees around the block

were laced with flowerlets
and tiny leaves and made a subtle
dazzling of hope. Not a forgetting

but a softening, as if the harsh
outlines of loss were growing
over now with something like the tender

grass of spring, its blades a clear
luminous green, a color from childhood,
from a time before grief and its

terrible healing makes traitors of us all.

Harriet Brown

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