When I look back

Upon the dim and distant past,

I see only scenes,

Brief moments with such significance.

Words were said, decisions made:

Eternal consequences.

So casually the world collapsed

And another began to grow.

Volcanoes erupted,

Words said that can’t return,

A fire that scorched and burned,

With ashes, its memory.

I sit now in my garden

The soil rich from ash grown cold.

Sometimes I wonder

What might have been.

But the flowers that bloom

Smell so sweet.

I can’t begrudge

The tiny thorn that sometimes pricks.

And I comfort my heart

When my tears would flow

With promises of

The angel’s song.

Jane. 

2023