Beneath Hard Earth

I think I lost my gift

for words somewhere in my past life of

small town girl

I feel all consumed here,

my body feels more than it ever has

before and when

I carve out space for the feeling I just

weep and weep and no words come

out, the lump creeps up,

but the lines fall flat.

I believed

once,

in a father who loved me

and when I truly felt that

in my heart

I ran from the first place

that taught me how to be.

This is not a religious metaphor,

I was told that those are bad for me.

Taken too deeply,

wandered too far,

felt eyes on me while I sleep

Performed even when

no

bodies stood before me,

looked for signs in the weeds.

“You’re so old for your age”

they would say.

As I plead for divinity

I know,

I’m much older than I am,

I look for her this first day of spring,

hoping she’s somewhere

thawing

beneath hard earth,

I plead for spring

for a much younger me