Like harvesting coriander,
all can be consumed and nourishing
Flourishing from the ways I access him
through my own name and my senses
Past tenses shroud all but his effect,
which is current and like vines on the walls
Calls to wake me no longer shake me
In his voicemails, he sounds to be forever breathing
Grieving sisters, here is where we find comfort
when the absence becomes the focus
Locusts, like longing, feed on what remains
Mine is a grief garden
Hardens and softens and widens and heightens,
the continuation of love gives me easement
Treatment of heartache tells of heart-felt remains,
where I live now and where the storm came
Name it my farmers market,
growing consciousness from the hurt
Dirt under my nails, because
finding him in the earth allows repair
Prayer over this warm meal, the grief
reminds me that I need to be fed
Led to rebuilding his tree fort with mom and dad,
touching the roots of their strength
The length of time in this After
holds his place as my Always, my brother
Other colors bleed into my greenery,
but I can still make out his smile
About the Creator
A. Lenae
I'm learning how to find the heart and describe it, often using metaphors. Thanks for reading.
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