Green leaves are on the way back.
I am grateful for the passage of time,
and how it patched me up.
I never thought I would see my garden bloom again,
the perfection of my poppies,
my passionate red roses and loving lavender,
poking from the dirt and peeking at the world,
wanting to be sure that this is the right place to make a life,
the right place to call home.
I call out to them,
tell them that my bruises didn’t last,
and the screams they heard have become songs.
It is safe to come out,
my children,
for the green leaves have found their way home.
