Pristine

On darker days, I feel the pit of my stomach humming like a bass drum

Photo by my son Jack

On darker days
I feel the pit of stomach
Humming like a bass drum
Dom, dom, dom at my center
It aches to remember
The messes that were written
So very long ago.
Weary of the up and down
I hang on to hope
Like the inevitability of spring
And I think about how the popping of buds
And the first flowers
Of the dogwood and redbud trees
Are the most pristine things I have ever seen
White, pink, green.
My voice is still lost in the fires
As though I was nowhere
In all the places I’ve been
I await the chirps
Of the first hatchlings
Their high, whole tones
Their pure and honest pitch
Teaching me once again
How to sing,
How to sing along to all this

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I created a video for this poem a few days ago on Instagram. The footage is from the woods behind my current home, in the hills of southeastern Kentucky. Voice over is by me, and the music is “Starseeds (1111 Hz)” by Malte Marten and Chantress Seba.

Wishing you a peaceful day.

Lots of love,

Frances