The heart, mourning and re-birth

by Claudia Ravaldi

I planted some bulbs this morning.
As I covered them with earth for a moment I thought it was a bit like burying them.
Then I thought that maybe, if nature does its part, if my love and patience are enough, maybe in spring some flowers will come, and maybe, after the flowers, some butterflies will also arrive.
Sometimes burying can be a birth.
I also thought that maybe, despite all the love and care and patience, maybe nothing will come … or maybe flowers and butterflies will come but I won’t be able to see them.
When life has come to your back so many times are thoughts you do … even if you are just planting a flower.
Maybe a spring will come that will truly be a spring, or maybe a spring will come that will be another winter.
I can not know that.
I can only cultivate and hope.
I can only live.
Alessandra Fioramei.

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