A few strangled drops spit and then stall
They stammer and stutter straining to fall
Confounding the forecast with its raindrop emoji
Denying April’s promise
Her showers of green
What unspeakable sorrow lies choked in our heavens
What truth (inconvenient) daren’t raise the alarm
What measure of grief incubates in our hearts
Nursing its bruises
Withholding its balm
In my garden the earth lies parched and pale
Within it worms struggle to surface
Unable to move through compacted clods
They ache for the skies to soften and break
Releasing their blessing and soaking the soil
In the bushes the blackbirds are busy with young
They sense what we dare not admit
That this season of plenty is struggling to bloom
For the worms cannot move
And are trapped in their tomb
So we wait and we wait for the heavens to open
For our hearts to soften and break
That the truth we have lost
Can resurface
And our joy be released from its tomb
A few strangled drops spit and then fall
As my heart starts to open
And its truth bursts the wall
With the grief comes the blessing
And a soaking for my soul