There The Mushrooms Grow

Poetry about mushrooms, and yet about something more.

Their stalks are stronger than you think!
Their heads held high, and they grow in a blink.
Just water and nutrients, they begin to grow.
A little dark is all they need, you know.

Their job is take the dead. Our poisons, negativity,
those horrible things we dread.
And once we finally put them down, bury them deep in the ground
of our own psyche, that's when they do their work.

Their bright colors help enlighten the Earth
when the sun is finally present.
So, regret not the harshness
or burying the past.

For when we plant our bitterness down in darkness
vowing to never speak of or remember those times that harmed us
There the mushrooms grow.
Feeding on the muck, and cleansing for us our soul.