Like a flower breaking earth.

You’re still here in all your flesh

and memory serves to correct me

on the little details caught up

all around me like dead skin in dust.

How often I look at photos memorizing

the ghost lines of a gone face,

paying my condolences to an empty casket

and curled consciousness, yellowed with the wear

of bringing you out and setting you in my sun.

And grief is a cruel mistress, keeping the dead alive,

or maybe the living just dead enough for me to still own you,

take your future captive,

to tell stories to my friends of the used to be,

ignoring that there is a right now going on in a universe

I don’t belong to.

And it’s only when I set my heart on my Portion,

On the lone One who knows the intricate weave of all the cells

I can’t see,

That I can see my right now, too, how it doesn’t have to be

darkened by the once was.

How I can bury you whole and still breathe,

watching you breaking through all my wrongs

like a flower breaking earth.

© 2023 by Ericka Clay

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6 thoughts on “Like a flower breaking earth.

  1. Pingback: Embracing scary…again. – Ericka Clay

  2. Right on, Erika! Write on. You’ve grasped truth by the hem, once again, and that is sufficiently enough to move mountains or stay an issue of blood. 🥰👏🏻

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I tell you, Anne, I always look forward to your comments. 🙂 Thank you. I’ve been truly leaning on Jesus this season, and I’m so thankful He lets me write what’s on my heart.


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