Weeding

I. If telling yourself this represents that
Helps you for having a picture for your feeling
Go ahead and do so:
Take the aches and moans and spatter them onto the world
Until you understand them properly.
Afterward you’ll have a story to tell yourself,
Because you found some truth
Previously hidden away in the mess.

 

II. You’re here because you needed to move
Closer to the ground,
Like a person about to faint breaking the fall,
You stoop down and pull at the first weed you see,
Breaking its head but not the roots.
Go back, pull out the rest.
Toss everything aside.
Step one, check. Move on.

 

III. This isn’t your mother’s garden.
Somehow you got clay and cicada shells
While she has black topsoil and earthworms.
She worked hard for her garden,
And you know, somewhere,
That perhaps you’ll get there too, someday.

 

IV. There are so many weeds.
Two weeks ago, they burst out in little purple flowers.
You aren’t supposed to like weeds,
But the blooms charmed your heart
Which is so easily led astray by temporary things.
Now, the consequences:
A garden choked by leafy invaders.

 

V. You realize you’re doing of all this
For the sake of the peppermint plant
And the snapdragons.
You doubted the mint would return in the wake of winter’s havoc;
The snapdragons were supposed to die.
One year later and both of them have reappeared,
Persevering through dead leaves and dandelions–
Reminding you that what you plant may truly thrive,
And even things you believe will leave forever
Can return when you least expect them.

 

VI. If it helps to tell yourself that this flower is that thing in your life, do so.
Make weeds and flowers transform into stories.
This garden is your fairy land–
Slay all the dragons
And traipse down even the scary, spider-ridden paths.
But when you’re ready, and only then,
Go home to your warm bed and your comfortable pajamas,
Slide between the covers, and rest.
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