Posted on May 12, 2024 by Jenn Zatopek

We Spoke of Our Mothers

At the Egyptian cafe, we spoke of our mothers,
eyes bright with remembered fear, words whispered

quickly in the din, our wonder held at surviving.
Haven’t you seen dying herbs, dead in the air, but

still alive at the roots in the dark dank soil,
determined to grow up proud anyway?

We stun the world with our power, like my
dead oregano, who grew back again after

winter’s thrashing, newly green petals unfurling
vibrantly, bending upwards toward the light.

Photo by kike vega on Unsplash