Hard Road

Sometimes, it is necessary 

for everything to flower from within;

and discover the gold and silver is the hurricane.

Sometimes, it’s self-blessing

to bitterly relearn a thing of its loveliness, 

that after nights of whirring rain, the earth is green again

Sometimes, it is necessary
to put a hand on the grimy brow and sigh

when you remember what made you once sad and cold.