i spoke to roma,
woman of the earth -
dark black soil underneath
her fingernails, aroma of
budding spring rising
from silver hair that
curled to tend her jaw.
lost, weary, i pleaded
for guidance, but
all she lent me was a
heavy, earthen sigh,
like one thousand flickering
leaves filling my chest.
i did not know the
significance of
silence then -
it resonates now
like the soft memory of
holding hands.