Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal

The Sparrow

Helen Losse


A sparrow calls as the sun comes up
in a world that overflows
with pain only God can remove.
But what force leads me toward contrition?

I’ve been crying all night long,
tears staining my cheek, making it itch with
grief. My eyes are puffy, red.

The process is logical enough
like faith leads to hope, then hopefully
onward toward love. The sparrow,
who now flies toward the brush, welcomes
the warm light of the sun without
knowing (anything) about me. Still, the salt of
repentance brought me to this place,

where today I am a winter tree,
pregnant with the germ of forgiveness.

***

Helen Losse is a poet, freelance writer, and Poetry Editor of The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature. Her recent poetry publications include Mastodon Dentist, Southern Hum, Adagio Verse Quarterly, The Centrifugal Eye, Ann Arbor Review, and Blue Fifth Review. She has two chapbooks, Gathering the Broken Pieces, available from FootHills Publishing, and Paper Snowflakes, available from Southern Hum Press.

© Helen Losse

Muscadine Lines: A Southern Journal ISSN 1554-8449, Copyright © 2004-2012