Loss into moss ... a poem (Hexagram 41 changing to 56)



Let go of a weight
a stone
a long-loved
ache
that needs 
to die.

Chances are
(change being
what it is)
that the ache
will wither
like moss:
gently. Its velvet
return will arrive
like a soft tide
with Spring
as you circle
back home
to this lush
bed of loss
to feather it
with a ringless
hand, and your
freshening tears.



Comments

Ellen Ross said…
Beautiful, Alexa! Thank you!

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