7 Elul: EUTIERRIA (Home Sweet Home) by Anna Rosenthal

EUTIERRIA (Home Sweet Home)

An augury whispered at dawn,
“You’ll see what your ancestors
mean.” I nigh shrugged it off as
unbidden,
And heeded with cur’osity.

In the yard, morning sun graced my back
Yet a half-smile soon fell at the sides —
For something awry lent a fright,
Gave me pause, made me tense, pilfe’d my light.

Not yonder enough, ‘cross the fence,
Adults leered, and children alike.
Righteously taunting and jeering,
They smeared with the strangest delight.

So I went to the park to get distance,
Denigration met me, askew.
Then I found a new trail — let’s try there!
The disease started spreading there, too?!

So I went to the hill with creatives!
I drove hundreds of miles away;
Yet they looked at me there like I’m evil,
Accusations: confessions unscathed.

So I told the trees just what they did,
(I learned that from some ol’ folk tale)
And I still don’t know quite what it means,
But here’s what the quand’ry unveiled:

Not redress, retribution, nor change,
Instead, symbiosis for all.
Provide oxygen while we’re living,
Consume nitrogen once we fall.

And I watched as the trees dance with sunbeams:
Shadows interplay o’er the ground.
Phylliform dioramas flit playfully,
Masterpieces of beauty abound.
And I realized this isn’t about me,
Though I started to harden in pain.
(Hurt people hurt people: afflicted)
Arboresque, I remain grounded: refrain.

And I learned that I need to be patient,
Though the root of patience is pain.
Like branches: beneficent, supple;
Imagine, together, our gain?

Then the solstice falls upon all of us —
The ruckus relents, post-rain musk.
I return to the yard, perpending,
And my ancestors whispered at dusk:

When you went to the hill did you notice
The luna moth perched for three days?
On your hikes, winter wrens, they sang shyly
Just once, since they knew they were safe.

In the park, wide eye’d fawn ambled ‘fore you
In the yard, crows left gifts at the gate
Built a nest, hatched their eggs in the chestnut
On a branch o’er right where you lay.

So you’ve found peace among all this chaos,
But that doesn’t mean pain goes away —
Just remember: the Corvidae trust you.
(And hatred can’t take that away.)

Some people say, “history repeats” and others say, “history rhymes” —
We’ve power to edit our future; I believe that we may still have time.