Spring’s painful ritual


Friday, April 10, 2015


The ache is always an ache

This earthy time when things burst

Inside and out,

The remnants of chill

Chipped away with each rising degree,

This elevation that pounds away

At the containment

Until everything explodes

The ache is always an ache

Rubbing against the world

Until friction set me free,

This time, this moment, always painful

In a way that is not painful at all,

The elaborate ritual

We need to succeed at the most basic

Of faiths, this belief we will rise up

And flow out over this frigid existence.

Each time this time, I come to love the ache

For what I might expect it to lead to,

The bursting and the delight

That comes after we churn up

The heat, and blossom,

This ache is always the ache

And will always make me feel free.



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