Easter announces that spring is here. The season that hints of longer, warmer days to arrive. The season of restlessness and the question of ‘what else’ might we do.  There is a magic about spring, no wonder this season is a favorite for poetry.

Our family enjoys poetry, reading and writing it. Putting your feelings into a flow of stanzas helps clarify feelings and may resonate with others in a way that simple conversations cannot.  I read about the healing power of putting your words into poetic form. Try to express your feelings in haiku fashion or summarize an experience in only 6 words for impact. You need not be Robert Frost or Sylvia Path (although both are inspiring to read!)

Zane would choose to write poems in English and Spanish. One of his poems was a request from a mother who had lost her son to a drug overdose. I’ll save that poem for another time. Today, with the sun shining and the blue sky covering us, I wanted to share one of mine.

Mother Spring

The buds on the trees, bursting to open,
clouds float by, their miscellaneous shapes
forming soft notes to those below
birds chirp as they gather
to build the family nest…

Spring demonstrates, the cycle of life continues
ready or not, here she comes
with her canvas of colors
to be seen in due time
Her gentle teardrops falling
cleansing the dirt of the winter dead

She brings with her evidence that hope is here
in the quiet morning dew
and the crisp mountain air
She puts in front of us
a kaleidoscope of tiny miracles
whispering to witness her magic.

all that we see, touch, hear and do
connects us to her bigger picture-
that of the moon and the heavens
where many of our own
shine down in twinkling lights.

Her energy is of peace, of love
letting us sense this other realm,
which is invisible to the earthly eye
it can only be seen, experienced
with a broken heart.

feathers fall in our path,
butterflies, dragonflies, wildlife visitors,
she sends with tiny messages on their backs
assuring us, life is a perennial cycle
of rebirth, of eternal connections
that reach across space and time
to those we love and miss.

Take this season to open your journal and pour your heart out in verse.  It is therapeutic. It is good mourning.