There’s a collective lie we all agree to believe when the calendar hits April. We pretend that when the earth thaws, it only releases gentle beauty. Soft green things. Sunbeams. Hope.
We never talk about what else is in that mud.
Winter is the perfect place to bury things. The frost acts as a concrete sealer for our doubts, our anxiety, and the darker, tumultuous thoughts we don’t want to carry in the light. In winter, everything is dormant. Safe. Static.
But the prompt for this week’s dVerse Quadrille (#244), hosted by paeansunplugged, demanded that we “Dig.” This simple verb requires action, disruption, and an opening of the sealed ground. When you start digging for tulips, you inevitably hit everything that was decomposing beneath them.
This is the chaotic juxtaposition I found myself writing about this week. The violence of a mental unearthing during the world’s quiet bloom.
Dug Out
What a horrible feeling of
tumultuous thoughts unwound.
Dug up from dead Winter’s
Frozen earth, releasing
Tulips and madness whilst
Nature blooms, keeping
Thoughts consumed of
Wanderlust and what’s to come.
Tomorrow’s hope is despair.
Summer isn’t here.
Soon enough,
I’ll feel good again.
The poem ends on a note of endurance: “I’ll feel good again.” It’s a reminder that while the transition (the “digging up”) is painful and chaotic, it is a necessary passage toward the warmth we’re all waiting for.
How does the changing season affect your internal landscape? Do you find the “thaw” to be a relief, or a tumultuous unearthing of things better left buried?
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments, and I encourage you to head over to dVerse to read how other poets have “dug” into this week’s prompt.
Thank you for visiting with me. For more Poetry or Literature related content, visit my blog at The Ritual.
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