The Ache of Spring

I know you’re hurt

I sense your bitterness

Your anger

 Is a dark

And violet cloud

That used to 

Adorn my thighs

I trained my rage 

For years 

To hibernate 

With every Winter

Until it finally woke 

With a fierceness 

To feed all 

The parts of me

That had been neglected

A hunger so sharp 

I thought I could never

Be soft again 

I have this card catalog 

Of memories

I don’t ever 

Want to remember 

I wish I could extract 

Each vivid 

Piece of paper

Burning them 

Under the New Moon

To feel 

The healing 

Begin

My sutures

Bound

With golden silk

Dissolving 

With the rite of Spring

Dancing dandelion threads 

Planting themselves

Like bare feet

Into the lushness 

Of technicolor beginnings...

~Amber Comber

#poetry #growth #spring