It never occurred that wallflowers wilt,
when the soil freezes over from a lack of warmth,
and the roots that once reached out in all directions
have been pulled up from the dirt.
Silence is not as welcoming as it once was
the lightness of it seeping into skin as easily as breathing–
instead bled through with heavy-handed darkness,
can’t be left alone to think lest it settle across my shoulders once again.
The fear keeps from taking things in
when I most wanted to remember.
(by Ana-Sofia Muñoz)
(Written by my daughter and was featured in “An Ode to the Writing Process: Writing in the Raw” /HLPUSD Literary Magazine).
Photo by catrina farrell on Unsplash
