THE SUMMER I MISSED THE WILDFLOWERS

Abuse is sometimes cunning,
like a mischievous fox who
by morning leaves you wondering just where it is
you left your right shoe.
Or glove.

Or the logical side of your brain.

Abuse is also quiet,
like the great Yukon grizzly who
sleeps away the coldest months,
tucked somewhere no one would suspect but
usually,
far too close for comfort.

If only we knew.

This summer I missed the wildflowers for the
first time in my life.
I didn’t wonder of the grass
nor the bees.
I recall not a single bird,
nor their songs that
help my own heart to sing.

Abuse is also like morning fog,
you can’t see anything when you’re
in the thick of it and
sometimes the only option you have is to…

Stay still a while.
So I did.

It is now Autumn and I’ve only just gotten out of bed.
I feel the yellowing poplars,
the evening chill and the black bears
foraging furiously for

Hibernation.

I see the fireweed closed up tight and the Mountains browning, too.

I know it is no time for inaction,
for Abuse may be cunning and quiet and hard to move through
but it is also vital that we learn from it.

Akin to all the Yukon flowers, the trees, birds and bears, too,
I will rest for Winter, preparing for spring and

moving forward,

anew.





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