Every year around Jase’s birthday, I find myself writing about azaleas. Here’s a poem I scratched out last week in the notes app on my phone:
the way azaleas grow
after a skinned knee
he climbs on my lap
arms and legs tucked in close
to my chest
like the azalea buds
yet to loosen
on their reaching stems
this is the posture of a son
beloved
a bundle of petals
collecting sun
before
they unfurl
every year I consider
the way azalea’s grow
the dormant sticks
wake up and rise
pronged leaves turn green
and part to make
way for a bud
that will become a blaring
trumpet of beauty
an announcement of
defiant life: spring
when he feels better
he unlocks his arms
like the petals as they release
into a new season
he leaves my side
knowing there is always
a place for him close
to my heart