Spring is almost here again.
Each night a million frogs tell me so,
their lusty swamp-songs echoing against
the sky, reprising echoes from years past.
When I was still a girl, I brought two girls
through this body and into the world.
I was immortal then, afraid of nothing,
and so were they, my blossoms.
Spring is almost here again,
but where is my brother, who
lived so long on its promises?
Where is my mother?
Years later, when my son grew in me,
I lay awake and finally knew the dark.
No dark like this dark. No hope of
resurrection for this dutiful aging body.
Spring is almost here again.
My husband dreams of tilling the garden,
planning each row. My lost brother’s bulbs,
his final gifts to me, rise once more from wet earth.
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This poem spoke powerfully to me in part because I recently read Why I Left – Why I Stayed. In that book Bart Campolo, the son of Tony Campolo and himself a prominent Evangelical Christian, discusses the events that led him to “deconvert”, rejecting Christianity and assuming the role of humanist chaplain at the University of Southern California. In combination the book and the poem cause me to reflect that no one can know for certain what happens after death, but what we can know for certain is that our lives matter. They matter to everyone that loves us, and that our loved ones lives matter to everyone that loves them. Et cetera. In at least this sense we are immortal. For me that is the only certainty, and it is enough.
This is beautiful Connie. Sad, yet beautiful.
Your brothers bulbs must be a source of sadness and delight. 🌹🌹🌹
Beautiful. A soft voice in a world becoming harsher by the day. I love this poem and the blossoming photo that came with it. So glad you are writing !!!
Beautiful work my friend. I loved the the description of the frogs “lusty swamp songs” and can imagine the sound. You are so talented.