30" x 40" x 1.5”. Acrylic, oil pastel, and charcoal on gallery-wrapped canvas by Wendy Pabich.
the soil is laden with
the barbs of little children
crying out from their own bruises,
a tribe’s rejection for hair too dark or
words spoken too softly or the whiff of an independent heart,
contemptuous glances for truth-telling.
its delicate structures—pores and clumps, horizons and layers—are built of a mother’s sweet song,
warm bread, tangy cheese, and earthy wine,
unbridled laughter and love peeling ‘round a ring of friends breaking bread.
it is weighted with loss—of connection, of body, of presence,
hurts bestowed by family and lovers and friends,
paths not taken
it is imparted with the nutrients
of a lover’s rapt embrace,
kind words gifted by a stranger
the unyielding love of a child.
it is watered by
hot tears spilled across eons,
a mother’s silent burden
a man’s unowned rage.
it is warmed as sunshine dances on bronzed skin
a whispered secret is sealed with a giggle
a knowing hand reaches forth.
stir it up.
water and wind it
breathe it with sunshine.
and, then, one day
as if by chance,
the crocus presses its tender face forward
the snowdrop beams white
phlox awakens, creeping and spreading its joy.
and, thus, the heart fills with love—again and again.
alchemy of spring