A Lesson in Living

photo by Shawna Widdel

by Jessie Veeder Scofield

this land

from where my heart sprang

where my father took his first breath

my grandmother her last

horizon to horizon

I turned from you

head wrenched back over my shoulder

and I run to you again

asking you to find me here

somewhere

I once knew you

this place

and I scream to you to break this hurt against your granite stones

I lurch my despair off your buttes

I march

I march

I march

across your fields

I plead

as you gently twist my hair in the wind

and cradle me in the rolling hills

you return to me the rosy cheeks of my youth

and lead my feet on trails I once cut

over and

over and

over

all the while trees are falling

roots torn from the ground

birds crashing to earth

storms howling

and you soak up the tears

back to the dirt

as the first purple flower of spring pushes through

you speak not a word

and go on living