The Musings of a Gardener

- jan-u-wine


(in the deep of winter, that which  may greet  Spring
sleeps beneath a quilt of white)    
What garden holds close a winter'd soul?
What  Spring may call it forth?
________
It is gone,
but now
I see
still
another
task
before me.

You
do not
know,
you
do not
understand, 
that
It
is not here.

Maybe
time
will
close
this door
in your mind,
maybe,  
with time,
I will not
look
to see  
you 

looking

to the small shock of your hand,  

looking 

as if
It
still rested
there....
as if
you
miss It
resting there. 

  
Why, 
tell me...
 
why
does it still
touch you? 
 
Why 
can you not
let it go? 
 
Our Home is safe. 
You
are safe. 
It is over....
yet,
never
over.

I understand,
at last,
I understand.

This small
thing,
this circlet
of gold, 
by itself, 
of itself,
means 
 
nothing:
the sight of  it,
the 
feel of it,
the weight
of it
is gone,
lost to you forever.

What
remains?

My friend,
broken in more
than body: 
 
that part  
housed
in the dark
places
where
your mind 
still 
permits
It to dwell. 

This is hard---
bitter hard.  
 
Understand: 
I will  not
let you
go.  
 
Evr'y slow
step
upon 
the weary Road,
I watched....
each endless day 
carried you,
sustained you,
fought you...

fought 

for 
 
you.

Now the Road
turns:
it  makes
twisted
pathways
inside
a still-burdened
mind.

Even there,
I will not
leave you.

I promise,
you
will not fall.

Come back....
listen....
Look upon our world -

Your stubborn 
love
saved it.

Will you not
save
yourself?

This
is not
a dream....
this
is not
the end
of all things.

Not
unless
you
wish it
to be.

My friend,
if  
you

wish it

to be, 

It
will have
won.

Even my simple
eye
sees
that you
are of as much
worth
as any other
flower
that grows
in the garden
of this world.

Even
my simple heart
waits
for yours
to turn
towards
the Sun.