POETRY
Fruit trees for the fearful
The third of Joel’s sonnets
He’s the coolest therapist I’ve had yet.
Shoots straight, no bullshit, no hollow statements
like “Just pray through it” or “You know, I bet
God has a good plan for this.” I hate this.
Joel sits us outside today, on the grass
wordless. He says he learned quiet from Job,
a grieving man. “So you won’t go to class.”
Joel-man never asks questions. “There’s no hope,”
I reply. More quiet. The grieving kind.
“One day,” he says, “God will give you the years
the sadness has eaten, both fruit and rind.
You won’t know what to do with all the pears
and plums, and it’ll be better than before.”
Not placating, no, but something much more.
Emma McCoy is a poet and essayist with love for the old stories. She is the assistant editor of Whale Road Review, co-editor of Driftwood, and poetry reader for the Minison Project. She is the author of In Case I Live Forever (2022), and she has poems published in places like Flat Ink, Paddler Press, and Jupiter Review. Catch her on Twitter: @poetrybyemma.
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Artwork: Fruit Trees by Gustav Klimt,1901. Public Domain.
Heart of Flesh Literary Journal 