the madrigal, volume ii
by madeline trosclair
when you open yourself to the cold dirt let yourself not be wary, but grateful for damp soil to soften the toughest parts calloused on your heart. a nameless want still lingers behind. transformation isn’t linear—it follows no chronology other than the path our thoughts take, revisiting the weights of our memories. in this sweet earth there is so much that winds like poison oak on its way to the sun. confront your grief. stand on the edge of its waters besides the pickerelweed and let its torrents soak you. remember, remember, the river floods to bring new growth. confront your grief with an open heart. the softened earth eats away callouses on the heart. an extension of the self lives onward. be still.