From Sprout to Snag
A sonnet
I never thought time a tangible thing,
yet days diminish like leaves in the fall
broken branches left but a barren tree-
stripped and splintered, somehow still it stands tall.
Moonlit memories run rampant and root
as rushing rainfall resurrects regret;
Dodging downfall proves a pointless pursuit
so I sit in showers of secrets suppressed.
What felt like forever faded below,
retreated into the rustle of leaves;
what I once desired has decomposed
the bones of my being buried beneath.
If I trust trauma can transform a tree-
why do I doubt the seasons sculpting me?
This started as a sonnet on turning thirty but as I was writing, I thought about all of the things I’ve held on to despite how painful they became. I realize now I am the author of each new chapter in this book of life and with each blank page comes new hope, potential for peace, freedom from fears and last but not least a whole lot of love!
Thanks for reading!
