On Cleaning my Garden

For 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

 

Rudra, you have a tough job

I understand you now

The tandaav is hard

But I try, and I clean it:

Not just the garden

But the weeds that grew for months

Deep inside the wounds

Of my broken heart

Balance is restored, there is life still -

In the swirling galaxies of my garden’s dream…

 

31^st Jan’ 2026

 

Inspired by real events – of cleaning my garden, after being immobile for two months following an ankle fracture.

Cover Image: Nimphradora, Deviantart