Episode 122 – Grave

The yellow crayon
looked like the sun.
She wanted to take it 
inside her body,
color over her fear,
but she pressed too hard
and the crayon broke 
into pieces.
She began to cry.

Her best friend rescued
the sunny segments
and tried to press them
back together.
Her tears made him feel
like he did when his mother
yelled at him.
He hated when his mother
yelled at him.

I’m sorry, he said
to the teacher.
I broke the yellow crayon.

* * *

The girl, now grown,
doesn’t want to hear
that he loves her,
tiny and scared,
ugly and evil.
That he remembers
the yellow crayon.

But his is the only voice
she can hear.
Her rage recedes
as a volcano of sorrow
storms from her eyes.

And he holds her.
Just that.

* * *

When the world returns,
it’s spring,
when flowers reach up
and we crawl from the ground
to follow,

far from wellness, 
but healing,
able to see the beauty
of the blossoms.

And when we least expect it,
our soul returns.