Shantha J. Bunyan
Rough Spring
outside, tulips are pushing
out of ground you usually till
and buds are peeking out of branches
that you would typically prune
but you are not here to do that work,
not here to ask me to do it with you.
spring will arrive, all blossoming and bright
but inside my heart is still weeping.
on the outside i feel as dry and cold
as the box on the bookshelf containing your ashes.
the flowers friends sent wither within their vases,
drooping onto the counter as they die.
outside the flowers haven’t yet bloomed
while house-bound by the virus, we wither inside.
we cannot yet bury you, cannot honor you as you deserve:
no funeral, no service, no burial, no closure.
and so you stay on the shelf, gone but waiting,
feeling nothing at all.
spring will spring past without me;
and I, without you, can only try to weather through,
rough: stuck inside feeling everything but you.
—Submitted on 04/04/2020
Shantha J. Bunyan’s poems have appeared in Put Into Words, My Love (Pomme Journal, 2020). A scuba divemaster, she spent the past 6 years traveling the world and visiting over 35 countries. Her blog is called Random Pieces of Peace.
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