In the garden, fill a hole with water,
eventually it will drain. Fill it with trash,
with poor soil, nothing—or weeds—
will grow. But fill the hole with topsoil,
intentional seed—is it any wonder
something beautiful eventually thrives?
Consider the hollow left when a loved one
is gone. Nothing will ever be the same as it was.
But if I protect the hollow, allow into it,
more feeling, more love, more honest connection,
if I sow there whatever goodness I grieve,
then how deep the roots might go. How true,
the sapling, its leaves so verdant,
so heartachingly new, so unashamedly green.