I was fearless once.
When my words spilled out recklessly,
wild, untended – a garden let loose.
Nothing else mattered but the words as they
grew from my deep and flowered, majestic in their exuberance.
For many sleeps my garden has been fallow…
left to a seedless season until the rain started and the deepest seed,
sown but never harvested,
brought forth the bud, pushing through the soil.
Tips of green break the cement-like ground and lick up the steadfast precipitation,
The seed, thirsty for the sun, bursts free,
maturing at breakneck speed and I stumble,
falling into the sodden soil.
The vine wraps me in its embrace and I shut off from
all but this moment,
as that which was always there
revealing all I was, all I am
and all I will be.
Miriam E. Miles