In the days leading to spring equinox, I sense how the darkness is losing its grip and in its wake follows this numbness of dusk.
Today the sky presses its swollen belly into the sea alloying to pewter. In my heart, I hide the fist, a kernel of acute craziness I prefer keeping in mind.
Even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being this stubborn is nauseating.
“Where is my ache?”, I inquire in silence.
I should be mourning I think as the shadow of a large bird of prey passes and leaves. The sky opens and a pale beam of sunshine on the first snowdrop shows me that maybe today…
… I can finally mourn.
and though darkness has been my comforting blanket, only in daylight my healing begins.
I sob and can finally hear the jubilant song of a blackbird.
Today Merril hosts the Prosery at dVerse and we are to include a line from Wisława Szymborska’s poem “Possibilities”
“I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility that existence has its own reason for being.”
into a piece of prose of 144 words (or less)
March 15, 2021