With No Regrets

by Liz deBarros


My best effort

Is not enough

To teach you

That birds don’t sing in winter

Nor do scorched deserts 

Feed them

But upon returning

From the long season

Of migration

During the months of 


Between the years

When the burdock 

Blew apart in your hands

And the cradle is put away 

They find favor

At seed time

After mud season

From strands of twine

Twig and scrap 

Comes a place of rest

Under open skies

With grace to fill the gaps

But for now

And the years we have left 

Let us take the bread

Lifting our cup

Pouring out

Love’s last drop

With no regret


This poem appears in Lodestone Issue 2. Get your copy here:

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