I Cannot Say

On this first day of Spring
in the time of contagion
I cannot find a way
to catch the abundance 
of beautiful blossoms
that are those things I need 
to say to you but can't

fresh phrases that sprout
from the dormant soil
of fears and doubts
thoughts tender as grass
ideas miraculous as seedlings
gratitudes needing to bloom
from the stem of my pen
sudden as wild violets
poems needing to be written
stories begging to be retold
words whose delicate petals
burst open one after one
until exuberant as pink
mounds of ruffled azaleas
truth is heard
as a shower of honesty
like April rain

so that when this dark
and dangerous season 
is over and any worries
we had about the future
are washed away…
I will be able to tell you
all I need to say right now
 

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