Growth

away the leaves that have died. 

The plant is healthy. 

I am burying grief in

a pot where I know life grows. 

Dry, brown, and easy

to pull away, the leaves fall.

My heart falls with them.

I see those I love who have

drifted away. That last breath.

Fresh dirt is needed

to cover what goes below.

But it still lives, just

as the past still lives in me.

Can I carry all of them?

This isn't the world

they promised I could create.

Am I failing them

when I can't heal all the pain?

When I can't right all the wrong?

I am terrified

that each plant may be the last

that I tend, and that

no one will care that any

of us were ever alive.

Let the roots take my

fear and turn it into hope. 

Let that hope mix with

water and sunlight to bring

green leaves and joy to the world.