“The path to paradise begins in hell.”
― Dante Alighieri
The beautiful colors with which the season once painted the world are now gray instead. New blooms that once reminded me that every little thing would be all right now lay silent. The continual song the little birds compose outside my window once delighted my heart. I thought that surely no man could ever compose such perfect melodies. Now, their music means nothing to me. Their song lingers on as one constant bittersweet tune. Spring that once represented hope and promise for me now represents warmer weather and more mowing for me. I look out across the fields covered in wild flowers where dreams once thrived as though dipped in the paint of immortality, and I see flowers that will die and grass that will burn when the rain ends. Weekends that I once treasured for the time with my love by my side while we played in the warmth of the spring sun now mean only that I can slumber whenever I please. Every day is Monday for me. I hate Mondays. The anguish of grief comes from the truth in knowing that tomorrow will herald in more bad news. They often say, “The truth will set you free.” My comfort is the simple truth in knowing that spring, just as the other seasons, cannot last forever. I am free.
©2013 Relinda R.