soil / soul

what do i feel when there’s nothing left to feel

what do i know for sure, for certain, for real

how do i sort

through the swirling widening ball of emotions inside me, surrounding me

walking in the garden in late september

i grasp at life before it goes

i feel the soil start to gasp for breath

and breath comes

it’s february now

and my soul gasps for breath, for air, for anything at all

my lungs fill with the cold

harsher than any smoke they’ve known

they say midwinter is the cruelest time of year

why, out of all the seasonal options, do i feel most at home here

in the stillness and the chill

my heart feels at home in the numbness

why do we assume the hard times are also the bad times

walking in the garden in February

i press my ear to the soil, searching for breath or for life or for anything at all

my search comes up empty

but april will be here soon and the warmth will come back too

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