Replanting the Garden

8/30/95

The sunlight shines and grabs at me
the glowing aura embraces me,
swallows me, burns me,
the fiery passion consumes me.

I stretch my limbs, shed the flames, and find shade.

The raindrops fall and slam into me,
the fertile clouds shedding their kin,
racing away while soaking me
with the sorrow of their loss.

I shake my hair, dry my skin, and find cover.

The earth trembles and shakes before me,
the despairing pit threatens me,
haunts me, sucks at me,
the bleak blackness binds me.

I widen my stance, jump away, and find solidarity.

The ocean swells and climbs around me,
the surging water drowning the world,
isolating me upon an island,
alone in all the world.

I hold my breath, dive in, and find beaches.

The wind screams and drives against me,
the angry whistles assaulting my ambition,
pushing me from my desires,
the unyielding force stops me.

I turn my body, push harder, and find freedom.

The ravages have wreaked their havoc,
yet I have survived, I have lived.

I remain in a newly fertile garden,
a single vibrant rose gingerly grows
from a single thriving stalk.
I sit beside the rosebush,
brush aside its thorns and wait…
wait for more buds to blossom,
wait for more bushes to grow.

Waiting for time to fill the garden
with an everlasting unity.