Shadows Amidst the Spring Light

Shadows wind through the spring green,
recalling winter, they carry the scent of blood
and despair driven by lies, the play of elaborate schemes,
and delirious dreams and desire blown into the after time,

and I ache,
wishing, wondering if I see light,
honeyed rays through verdant trees,
the pink-petaled spray of hopeβ€”

full of ever and always,
somewhere my mother is in a garden
or gazing at an azure sea,

she takes her brush,
erases the storms, the grey-clouded earth,
paints bright color on her canvas,

and I wake to birdsong and feathered-wishes
diamond bright in the still dark sky.

The Magnetic Poetry Oracle knows everything. The political situation here in the U.S. is quite troubling; Mother’s Day is tomorrow, and it’s spring. We collaborated on this poem.

24 thoughts on “Shadows Amidst the Spring Light

  1. Yes this Trump is still President tour is also on my mind.
    The Times had a photo story about reunions of families with members isolated in nursing homes for the past 18 months–so poignant, but it made me ache thinking of you and the others I know who never had the chance for one. The Oracle knows. (K)

  2. I love the image of your mother looking on and painting things right again:
    β€˜she takes her brush,
    erases the storms, the grey-clouded earth,
    paints bright color on her canvas,’
    Have a wonderful Mother’s Day!

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