Bloom in the Hush Before Light

for max, on your 22nd birthday

Image:By Heather Zoccali

Bloom in the Hush Before Light

by: Heather Zoccali

Three times seven
plus one~
or is it two?
For indeed we did share a body
that once carried two.

To house you.
Then home you.
You bloomed in the hush before light--
and stretched toward your own sun.

I watch you still~
from the doorway,
close enough to kiss
the freckles on your nose--
those small altars
lit by things you’ve never said.

Your eyes—hazel and green~
mirror the rhythm of soil.
You belong to the roots
as much as the sky.

Your veins--
bold, visible~
trace paths the land
still dreams of.

You carry the hush of ritual--
not empty,
but full of what matters.

The mountains call you.
So does the water.
They know your name~
they’ve known it
long before I did.

Your roots grip stone
and memory.
Your branches ache
for the joy
found only in the bending.

You bloomed in the first dark.
And I,
the soil that held you,
remember.