Till

Every year
we tear into the earth
and make space
with hope and patience
for something new to nourish us.
Every year, a mystery.

It seems impossible
that something as delicate as
a single seed
could overcome the odds
stacked against it.
But then, what do I know
about the integrity of soil,

the chemistry
of minerals and ions, or the strength
of tiny cells?

Ask the earth 

about love and loss. Ask it

how to carry on 

and it will tell you 

how heartbreak descends

like a landslide,
unearthing immovable fixtures,
shearing rock
from the surface of itself,

chewing apart time and circumstance 

and churning it out
in a wake of irrevocability.

Shards and splinters--
what was, and what had seemed to be--
tearing a path over and
through us, again and again, reshaping
our lives, scouring our tarnished wisdom.

And it will tell you

that this is the miracle:

that from within the darkness
of quiet uncertainty
and the violence of upheaval

something
new
and beautiful
aspires
to grow.