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Posts Tagged ‘moss’

Places I Long to Go

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on March 18, 2026| 2 Comments »


 
 
Every time we pass this spot on the dusty river trail, 
my daughter gazes across the water to the other side, 
shaded by cliffs, where moss grows thick and deep. 
I would love to sleep on that moss, she says, 
as her eyes go gauzy, her voice grows soft.
Living in high desert, as we do, mossy places are few.
As a girl, I had in my bedroom a whole wall covered 
with a mural of a Japanese garden, its gray rocks
mostly covered in green. I, too, dreamed of stepping 
into in a place so lush, so verdant, so alive even rocks 
proved fertile ground. To find that kind of fertility inside me—
inviting what is sensual, vital, to flourish in the barren, 
desiccated places in my heart—that is my new dream. 
But it is not always easy to let in the dark. Not always easy 
to let what is hard in me be broken down so something 
might grow. There are places I long to go with my girl. 
Some are nearby, just across the stream. 
Some, breath close, are much harder to travel to.  
 

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After Effects

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on November 12, 2025| 4 Comments »


 
 
In the dream, Craig said to me, 
you know, Rosemerry, there
are fifty-eight kinds of loss. 
He pointed me to an easel
with a large blank page and handed me
a moss green pen. Here, he said. 
Fill them in. There were two columns. 
Loss of living. Loss of the dead. 
In minutes words filled the page 
like clover reproducing in a field. 
Loss of time. Loss of breath. Loss of love.
Loss of masks. Loss of shoulds. Loss
of musts. When I woke, I could
no longer name them all. But I
felt them growing in me, feel them,
still, flowerless and powerful,
exploiting any cracks in my certainty,
breaking me down from the inside,
making me softer, softer. Softer.

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Adapting

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , on September 12, 2025| Leave a Comment »


 
 
The way moss softens
the edges of what is hard.
The way it thrives in shadow.
Oh heart. The work
of loving the world
can look so much
like moss doing
what moss does—
growing in places
that seem uninhabitable.
It doesn’t even need roots
to survive.

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