The Air Remembers
The air remembers.
It remembers the weight of cedar pollen, the long green exhale of forests that stood where highways now glitter like rivers of metal.
It remembers lungs that filled without fear.
My grandfather inhaled and tasted rain. I inhale and taste warning labels.
Yet every spring the lilacs persist, opening their small purple mouths against statistics, against forecasts, against the arithmetic of ruin.
The air remembers.
The question is whether we will.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
