Born Again
1 Minute Read Time
Associate Editor Kate Jayroe: Botanical and syntactical frisson merge blissfully in this seasonal miCRo essay. There’s a sense of the operatic at play, as Parsons builds toward major chords of naturalistic ecstasy. Cycles of life and renewal are manifest in language in unexpected ways, here.
Listen to Parsons read the essay:
Born Again
Fiddlehead godhead maidenhead furred tendril up from ankle-deep bed, I unkneel moment by moment sun lifted licked awake, nothing can keep me low, hungry for first honey in the rock the soil the broken crust oh mother may have, but this daughter salt-risen March-dusted knows the only way to rise is to bow wings and all against the wind and dreadful rain until the great unfurling until earthen house and home both wholly and holy until exhale bears down the child crowns circles the ribboned pole oh ground me skyward my greeny fuse my bud of the hoped for the promised the sweet rot feeding the least of us, wildling splittail honed on what will be will be second nature to the snowbound cherry the resurrected unstoppable coming, oh love evermore, oh spring, when even the worm blossoms.
