On Cleaning my Garden
F or two months, I halted – Ankle broken, ligament tore, I stared out at my garden The glass window as if framing A painting alive – My garden growing From an impressionist komorebi Balancing light and dark To an unkempt surreal Dali’s dream I waited, and waited Today, I let the artist in me Come out with freedom at last First I tried to trim, But it was fighting a savage beast That had grown beyond control Like Wain’s cats in shades of green; I had worked for months To grow these plants, pots everywhere But these couldn’t sustain: I had an epiphany in the dewy grass of dawn There is a stage to grow, Then there is a stage to contain Like Shiva’s dance. Sometimes. Chaos needs to be collapsed in a bottle Tendrils need to be tethered. As if the third eye opened I cut through the undergrowth Uprooting weeds, hacking months Bleeding inside, the growth I spurred Was culled, as I become the monster in turn R...
