Resurrection

Alisa Muniz Blanchard all rights reserved

The garden wall has become covered with moss and vines
Cracks separate the mortar, as its bond to the stone declines
At the urging of my soul, in its cool shadow I paused for rest
Eyes open, a yellow flower opens where the sun shines

In the pausing to collect breath something became askew
My body trembling with anticipation in the morning dew
Off in the distance I could hear the echoing thunder of bells
Against song birds waking and peering from their lofty view

Despite the waking world this heart remained frigid cold
Random moments of vulnerability, limited and controlled
For if, like the flower, I opened myself to the bright loving sun
Stories of fear I had hidden in the longing, would need to be retold

So I broke the promise I made when a youth, to always hide
Though often I wonder, what difference would birth if I died
A parched, ebbing flower drying in the lingering afternoon light
In a moment I saw a lifetime of self-harm then broke down and cried

Perhaps if I hadn’t spent so much time forgetting inner reflection
Or consuming destiny with multitudes of self-defeating projection
Life would have unfolded gently, like mist on a soft summer morning
And I would have slept and missed this magnificent resurrection

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