A True Story About Poets

Their stories take root in me

Photo by Thought Catalog on Unsplash

I met a poet who tells me that spring is agony for her. Spring is a season of loss, the recurring time of year when loved ones had died. She sees flower stems emerging from the soil as fingers of death. Her anxiety spikes and she has trouble sleeping.

A therapist told the poet to get her hands deep into the soil, to pl…