By Kathleen Holliday
Because of,
or perhaps despite
my whisperings,
the African violet thrives.
When I woke this morning,
my heart daunted by what
we humans keep doing
to other humans,
there it was:
a bud that wasn’t there yesterday,
topping a pale stem in a whorl of green,
a tiny fist raised
to the light.
Copyright Holliday 2021
Kathleen Holliday lives on an island in the Salish Sea. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in The Bellingham Review, The Blue Nib Literary Magazine, Cathexis Northwest Press, Common Ground Review, Poetry Super Highway, SHARK REEF, a Literary Magazine and The Write Launch. She is a graduate of Augsburg University, Minneapolis, and an erstwhile student of the Lyle's Bar School of Poetry. Her chapbook, Putting My Ash on the Line, is now available from Finishing Line Press in 2020.
All work by Kathleen Holliday
