AFTER THE RAINS

The saturated grain 

of the porous wood.

The worn and torn tissue

blushing and red.

The tear-like droplets

randomly arrayed. 

The heart-shaped arrow

pointing backwards.

The finely branching veins

open like a palm. 

The complexity and fragility 

of life magnified.

The bright 

against the dark.

The intersecting lines: the vertical 

beneath the horizontal. 

The beauty 

in the ravaged.

A bleeding leaf floating 

above a dark current.

I see all this.

Because I feel all this.

Because my heart 

and the grain of my being

have weathered their own

recent storm.