I decided to walk home from Fernwood
down Moss Street,
instead of Linden Ave.
Trees in blossom lined the street.
My headphones trickled
melancholy
down my ear canals.
A sort of comforting acknowledgment
of the sorrow
pumping through my heart
and vibrating deep
into my bones.
It’s amazing how on such a grey
overcast day,
sprinkled with rain,
as I walked
with this heavy weight,
the blossoms encircled me
like snowflakes
dancing in the wind.
Flurries pirouetting
in the roadway
with a tour jeté,
as if to say ‘It’s okay,
the sun will shine again’.
As if to say
‘Beauty surrounds you today.
If you only open your eyes,
you will find,
that the hurt you feel
is the love inside.
The love you can no longer give,
bursting from your soul within,
to hold him once again
in your arms,
to replace his fear
with peace and calm.
But you can’t,
you can’t today
and that’s okay,
that’s okay.
We’ll send our blossom dance
his way.
To give him hope.
To give him faith
that one day
he will be safe.'
I blow my kisses in the wind,
to touch his cheeks
and graze his lips.
So the breeze may hug him
when I cannot.
So the blossoms ease
his fearful heart.
I hope he finds the help
he needs
to feel safe,
to at last be free.
Through spitting rain
on damp concrete,
step by step,
my heart still beat.
Music humming in my ears,
memories cherished,
ache and cheer.
A bee I found atop my hair,
once home and looking
in the mirror.
My eyes red and tired,
swollen, sad.
The bee fluttered to
the garbage can.
I took the pail
to the entryway
and watched the bee
fly away.
Through pain and hurt
life goes on,
like the bee, now free,
he too is gone.
--
This poem was based on a true story. No, the blossoms weren’t talking to me but those were the thoughts I had in my head as the small pink flowers encircled my body and the street. I did find a bee on my head when I looked in the mirror once home. I released it just like I said in the poem.