Renewal

- The Seasons Of Grief: Chapter V - Poem I -

On the seventh day, a hush settles over the lands battered by fire and scorched by cold,

A breath between seasons, a story foretold

The past continues, like petals, embers, and snow,

It was written in the footprints the Earth used to know

The skeletal trees once trembled and swayed,

Now they stretch, both withered and unafraid

Winter once veiled them in sorrow’s embrace,

But spring carved sonnets into each empty bark space

Verses consuming the pages, they spill ink where the water and frost used to fight,

The paper turned my bitter soul to something alight

Lanterns rekindle where the fireflies lost their yellowish hue,

My words bloom from ashes where silence once knew 

Autumn’s dirge, a fever, a glow,

It burns through the pages of all I let go

Summer then whispered with hands of sandy gold,

They bound the chapters, which were too heavy to hold

The seasons will erase me, that I know for sure,

When I return to my grave, the greenery will grow into ferns

It’ll overtake my legacy, my work, and my half-finished poems,

When asked about me, my descendants will say, “I never got to know him”

The tree that I sat beneath so much as a kid,

Might outlive me and all that I’ve done and did

I look up at the sky from terraces in flowery, ivy-grown mansions owned by narcissistic men,

And see the stars, the ones who truly understand

I’ll go about my routine, sipping coffee and making oats,

Maybe I’ll take a trip to San Diego, or a better place on a boat

I reread all that I’ve written, but I don’t dare try to fix my words,

Always, I’m trying to see that my realization of life is more of a blessing than a curse

So, the years will pass like the seasons of grief, until eventually, I’ll find renewal,

It’s the only thing I have now, my charms, my poetry, my works, and the acceptance I’ll eventually discover