the seed

somehow my heart is still smiling.
each little link breaking remembers
we are connected without regard for
propriety. without knowing how or why
the infant cries, collapses, carries on crawling.
until one day she stands and walks.

surely, i say, there is something good and whole
and pure that must be buried beneath this pain.
i set my spade to it, like a schoolchild
barefoot with it squishing between my toes.
the seed has already been planted here.
with a little warmth, i say, it will grow.