You left
a crater.
Not a wound.
A crater.
Something
large enough
that weather
collected
inside it.
Years passed.
Grass grew
around the edges.
People looked
at me
and thought
the landscape
had healed.
Maybe it had.
Mostly.
But impact
changes geology.
Ask the earth.
A meteorite
can arrive
for seconds
and alter
a place
for millions
of years.
That used
to scare me.
The idea
that one moment
could have
that much power.
Now I think
about craters
differently.
Some become lakes.
Some hold
forests.
Some are visible
only from above,
their violence
softened
into shape.
I am not
grateful
for the impact.
I will never
call destruction
a gift.
But I have stopped
believing
the crater means
the world ended.
The ground
changed.
Yes.
And still,
something
grew there.
Leave a Reply