So much might bring the rain.
May it scour the rot from my roots
The worm of doubt from my fertile earth,
May my tears form narrow streams
That come spring, nourish burnished saplings in the garden of my heart
'Till the air sings bright with mint and sage and lavender
And all the putrid shroud of past mistakes, of black thoughts and grief's thorny inquisitions are washed clean away.
Remember.
So much might the rain bring.


© Leila Kadar