Green (A Poem)

Green

In those days, the water ran clear.

The warm air carried the sweet perfume

of summer fruit

and the green was soft and mossy underfoot

and the green was cool and shady overhead

and the green was a melody that surrounded her.

But the world shook 

and changed its mind

turning the water to mud

plucking the fruit from the barren branches

scorching with rays that sucked dry the bones

of the earth.

And she wandered, bare feet sliced by the

sharp stones along her path,

a desperate thirst burning her throat and stealing

her voice.

Her sanity was a pocket

In which she held a treasure as precious as

the life of a child,

as essential as laughter

as salt, as rain.

It was a patch of green – only a remnant

but it breathed, and it cooled, and it quenched.

One small oasis for the journey

One small reprieve

as she trudged through the wasteland

living for her memories

knowing that the days of green

could never return

but holding them still

and dancing to the whispers

of the melody that

used to play.

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