Abuse, Love, Poetry

Each Year the Emerald Grass

(About a 2 minute read)

The red bud’s magenta blossoms
Explode above the emerald grass
That’s sprinkled with bright yellow lions,
And fresh with the afternoon rain.

The dark sky is passing now,
The sun returns along with a breeze
And I can smell the earth,
It smells like her hair.

Come sit with me in the grass, Marysa,
Come sit with me while it’s tall,
And before John cuts it.
Come sit close to me in the grass.

Each year the grass reminds me of her.
Marysa, each year the spring
Reminds me of her.

Her blond hair flowed in curls
Like a waterfall down her back,
And her smile danced
Like sunlight glinting off the ripples
Of a deep lake.

She was your age, Marysa
She was seventeen, and each year
The emerald grass reminds me of her.

Marysa, she did not go willingly
Into her night.

She was forced down
Pushed down
Held down
Choked down in a long ago spring
By a possessive boyfriend
Who strangled her
With an extension cord
For saying she loved a better man.
For saying she loved me.

Come sit with me in the grass, Marysa,
Come sit close to me in the grass.
Each year the grass reminds me of her.
Marysa, each year the emerald grass
Reminds me of her grave.

14 thoughts on “Each Year the Emerald Grass”

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