Wild Carrot

Some days hope
feels like the
dirtiest of words.
Like the word that
will bring the most
sorrow of all possible
So I keep quiet
not letting it overtake me
or wriggle its way deep inside.
It’s so easy to mistake
a simple feeling
for a complex intuition.
To see meaning
when there
is none.
From here I can
see how each
painful step
was necessary
and how the timing
was oddly
As if there had been
a plan all along.
I think tonight I will
bake some bread
with the flavor of
wild carrot.

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