Earth Day in Quarantine/Missing You
By: Caitlyn Klinepeter-Persing
The hands that lift up souls, the hands which extend downward
To fallen things, and clasp, and pull them up
Are also the hands that gently raise seedlings
From their beds, as if to whisper “wake up,” as if to mimic
The mother rousing her child from a deep rest.
But it is also the child who rouses the mother, so
When the soil pulses with life, when the seedling wakes you in return,
There are thanks to be exchanged, and secrets to be murmured,
And luckily, I think you’ve gained their trust.
Your palms have held the earth.
The sun that shines behind your eyes warms everything
You see, but still the sun is wont to be obscured,
And in the storm is power, the howl, the whipping of winds
The obscuring of vision, the undoing of hair,
The storms that test the integrity of bones,
These are the ones against which you have raised your voice
And fuck if they didn’t hear you, and shout back.
In the gale you write the letters for the burning, you
Burn the boy with his own matches
And the storm takes note, and stills.
Your eyes have cried the rain.
The day I filled my lungs with dust, stumbling, colliding with cave walls,
With both hands over my eyes, and pressing in every second,
Sudden warmth, awash in burgundy and rose and lightning-yellow
Fell over the terrain, infusing the ash and smoke with light.
And all around me life where there had been stone.
The little blades of grass stand stronger under your gaze;
They tell me why it is better to be warm than cold.
The trees as well, half aglow and half shadowed, because
It really is the balance of the thing, you know.
Your smile has broken the dawn.