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we tried making sense of our world. we ate strawberry jam for breakfast, we dragged our stuffed pets behind us on strings, we jumped on trampolines. we found a jungle in our backyard- the ballerina, the fireman and me. we swung from the branches of trees, took in long car drives from the back seat, invited the garden fairies for a cup of sugary tea.

we tried making sense of our world. we built sandcastles to house our unanswered questions- most of which we had inherited before we’d even learned to spell. we didn’t always know where to take them so we took them to each other. or they took them to me. they (the cinnamon-bun-boy with the trusting eyes, the girl with the bangs and the most eager smile) they were mine to care for.

And I (the girl who wished away her freckles) I told stories in the dark to chase away their unwelcomed dreams. I grasped at broken branches, at cobwebs, at any water droplets I could reach- trying to button something together they could stand on. I so meant to be the fearless leader. Always hoping they wouldn’t notice the holes in my sneakers, wouldn’t notice that my worldview was just a few sizes too big.

waiting for rain

you do not turn this wilderness
into a garden
but there is new life in me

and while the earth is
still too dry
to plant these seeds...
I hold them out, I hold them open

and wait for rain

garden poem

sometimes I seek out the silence
planted in my heart's soil,
the garden home to my soul.
I move wordlessly,
upon the earth you tend to,
the earth you've breathed into
me.
Perusal.
in amongst the tallest trees,
I feel your breeze
my arms sway
stray blossoms make their way down
from the branches high above
they rain on me.
Pursual.
I am stirred by your song,
notes ring lovely and long
your voice-call
walls between us fall down
from around this planted heart
you reign in me.
the Gardener, my Garden Father.