I followed the trail of words
back through my days,
looking for the consolation
and the brave face
that marked the chasm that I never spoke of,
but it was gone

How can it be that a whole memory
is erased? Not exactly that,
for the facts are there,
but the pit of emotion is gone,
and the weight, the despair

In the place of dragons, where each lay,
will be grass with reeds and rushes

Even so. Hope springs from ash,
green and thriving.

©Wendy Mulhern
March 4, 2023