Outside Your Door

For Bridget Blessing, in memory of Johnathan Blessing

Because it seems he stops for some,

and dirt to dust will fade to bone,

I find it necessary to remind you–

That flowers grow down,

with roots deep somber.

A job suited for this Earth.

For tangled webs do rise with tides

and show themselves in shadows,

But glisten still will dew drops new–

and jet planes overhead.

He knocks on doors in night’s

stillness, seeking the seekers

whose promises kiss alone.

He can’t burn those made of fire,

those with unquiet minds,

hearts of iron.

He won’t see his own footsteps

because you carried him,

flesh cradle in all.

Ariana Moulton is a 3rd grade teacher and writer living in Chicago with her two daughters and husband. She grew up in Cornwall, Vermont, attended Bates College and has her master’s from Columbia College. She is inspired by nature, politics, Chicago, and the people and landscapes of Vermont. Her writing appears in Verity LA, Poet’s Choice, Lucky Jefferson, Poem Village, and What Rough Beast Covid 19 Edition. “Tracing the Curve” is her first collection, Atmosphere Press.