The Season Permitted Poem by Henrietta Ezegbe

Spring Answers To Me

Spring does not arrive.
It is permitted.

Beneath the surface,
root and soil
wait for instruction.

Light returns
when the ground consents.

I learned this slowly.
Season is not chance.
It is governance.

The thaw begins
where resistance loosens.

Gates do not open
on their own.

No force grants breath
to what has not been claimed.

So I stand
at the edge of turning
and allow it.

And the earth,
recognizing the shift,
follows.